Defence Against the Dark Creature
by Allemande
Summary: All my life I have been shunned, unable to find paid work because of what I am. Remus has given up all hope of ever leading a normal life. But when he gets a job as a teacher for lycanthropic children, he must face his past and demons inside him...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"I have to say that I'm rather impressed by your performance, Mr Lupin."

_Phase One. Politeness, acknowledgement of capabilities._

"You've shown us that you can handle children really well, and the children adapted to you almost instantly."

_Interesting. A prolonged Phase One this time._

"Surely there can be no doubt about your abilities as a teacher in general."

_Ahh. What a creative transition to Phase Two._

"A teacher of Fighting Against Dark Magic, however..."

_Phase Two! Cheers!_

"... my colleagues, and I cannot blame them, have expressed their doubts as to whether... well..."

_Transition to Phase Three, usually accompanied by slight stammering._

"... what I mean is... given your, er, condition..."

_The opening word of Phase Three: "Condition."_

"In short, Mr Lupin. I cannot, as a headmaster responsible for over 400 children, overlook certain factors... I am sorry to say that I will not be able to give you this job."

_Bravo! The percentage of those using the word "sorry" has just risen to twenty-four. Very touching. He will never know of this honour, of course._

"Good day, Mr Lupin."

_Nod, stand up, shake hands. Above all, keep your face neutral._

"And, erm... good luck."

At this, Remus had to raise his eyebrows, and although the headmaster was not very perceptive, he must have seen the small sarcastic smile that played around Remus' lips. "Thank you." His tone betrayed him. He walked out, past a nervous-looking secretary who would, as soon as he had disappeared, probably storm into the headmaster's office to check him for bites. Which was only natural, considering every Dark Creature was the same, had the same motives and should be treated in exactly the same way.

Remus stumbled over a few pieces of litter on the floor in the corridor, caught himself in time and reprimanded himself. _Stay focused. Do not reflect on what just happened. Just... go on, go ahead, you know what happens if you don't._

As he walked past the room of "his" class, however, he had to stop for a second. He peered through the small, slightly blurry window. The class he had been allowed to teach for two hours. They were back with their old teacher now, an incredibly boring old man with a voice that was more like a grumble and made it hard for the class to follow his words at all. Not that those were overly exciting, Remus thought, smiling wryly when he read the inscription on the door. Fighting Against Dark Magic, indeed. He was sure that, had he been one of the students, he would have lost no time charming the writing into "Fighting Against the Stupor" or something equally fitting.

He was still gazing into the classroom, at the children who were dozing off, playing games in the back of the class or reading a book, when he caught one of the children's eyes. The boy's face lit up at the sight of him, and he waved frantically, unnoticed by the teacher who had been writing onto the blackboard for a few minutes; soon the whole class had seen him and was waving, mouthing for him to help them or making rather rude sign language at the teacher. Remus had to grin and he shrugged, motioning to them that he was leaving. And for a small moment, the shock on their faces made up for everything.

But the old man had finally noticed that something was going on and turned around, following the childrens' gazes to the door. Remus' smile vanished instantly. The man shot him a glare, obviously not very impressed that Remus was, after two hours, already favoured. And... there was something else in his glare that Remus knew all too well. Something inside his chest tightened, and as he turned around to leave, the door shot open, revealing a small, narrow-eyed Mr Thorge. "Care to say goodbye to your -er, _my_- students?"

Remus watched him uncomfortably. There was something about the teacher's eyes that he didn't like. Still, he had no choice - running away now was not an option. He nodded at the man, keeping his expression polite, and walked into the room. At once, he was met with cheers. "Mr Lupin, are you staying?" shouted a rather extroverted young man sitting at the window. "Er, no _offence_ to you, of course, Mr Thorge." The class giggled. Remus smiled a small smile. "I can't. I'm leaving."

"WHAT? Why?" This came from all the corners of the room. "Didn't you like us?" asked a timid girl in the first row whom he had had to convince to put away quill and parchment in his lesson. (After a small period of shock at losing her two faithful companions, she had been delighted.)

Remus' smile tightened. He could almost feel Thorge smiling triumphantly behind him. "I..."

"He didn't get the job," the old man filled in for him, helpful as he was. Remus stiffened. The class stared at him.

"_Why_?" asked the boy at the window after a few seconds, breaking into a silence. Remus bit his lip, unable to say another word. Another uncomfortable silence followed. What should he say? The headmaster hasn't been impressed with the lack of theory in my lesson? Not even Thorge would have believed that.

"Class, turn to page 375," grumbled Thorge. Remus let out his breath slowly as the class, swearing under their breaths, turned to the page. He was just on his way outside when the timid girl in the front row made him freeze right in the middle of the doorway.

"Sir, why are we doing werewolves before vampires?"

A strange sort of numbness clouded his head. His hands clenched into fists, and his teeth gritted together so forcefully that it hurt. He was aware that he was still standing upright, although he felt more like leaning against the doorway for support; but he hadn't moved.

From far, far away, he could hear a voice.

"What's wrong, werewolf, has the moon been troubling you?"

The last thing he heard was a collective gasp from the class before he fled down the corridor.

_Moony-_

_I'm as good as I can be. A Muggle saw me yesterday and _

_alerted the fire department. And what lovely sirens they have!_

_Beaky's tired. Hell, so am I. Keep me updated about you. What_

_happened in that school? Something you weren't telling. Come_

_on now, you could never fool your old_

_Padfoot_

That simply wasn't true, Remus thought as he folded the letter with a small, thoughtful smile. There had been a time when Sirius hadn't been as sensitive to other people's feelings. Just how much he had changed, they both had changed, was becoming clearer to him every day.

Things would be easier with Padfoot, he mused and moved to the kitchen, mechanically washing and drying the dishes -by hand, to have something to do- and cleaning up the kitchen. But he had survived without Sirius all these years. He wasn't giving in. Not yet, not so quickly, no sir...

_Sir, why are we doing werewolves before vampires? _Because werewolves are the most dangerous Dark Creatures that exist, my child. They actually make us believe they're human during the day, for a whole month. They can move in sunlight and touch Holy crosses. They're cunning. And they go out there looking for jobs, normal jobs, they actually try to work among normal people and be like them, but they will never be, not even during that month, they will always be... Dark.

A bit too late, Remus noticed that he had been squeezing a knife inside his clenched fist. The knife looked slightly deformed now, but his flesh wasn't hurt. Ironically enough. This always happened, didn't it? Who was playing their sick game with him?

_So, no use telling yourself over and over again that you're fine, Lupin._ Remus gritted his teeth and moved around the small space that served as both lounge room and bedroom, again more mechanically than consciously putting it in order, before he went down into the cellar to clean it up. Blood, his own blood, was still hanging heavily in the air. He hadn't managed taking off his clothes last time, as the meeting at Hogwarts had taken longer than expected and he had rushed back and locked himself in without further ado.

He picked up his torn robes and made a face. He wasn't exactly rich; the new robes had eaten into his poor savings rather dramatically. But they were necessary when you wanted to make a good impression on others...

He grimaced - a luxury he only permitted himself when he was alone. How ridiculous, Lupin! A Dark Creature tries to make a good impression to get himself a job? You could stride in there dressed in a paperbag, and they wouldn't notice.

"Why the hell am I doing this," he muttered angrily and threw his robes into the bin upstairs, a bit harder than necessary, making the bin sway back and forth. It was not only the cleaning of his little cell that seemed pointless. His search for a job, his attempts at making a good impression, his whole life had become a practical joke. Remus Lupin, the monster, in search of a normal life.

Ironically, it was again Hogwarts that was giving him the one gleam of hope in his life. Two years ago, Dumbledore had known to write at exactly the right time, a time that had been so grey and hopeless that Remus hadn't known how to go on. He had been starkly reminded of many more years before when, at the age of eleven, he had received a letter from Hogwarts. His parents had been there for him all along, but his friends had abandoned him, the word had spread, and they had had to move to another town. He had drowned himself in books. By the time he reached Hogwarts, he knew almost all of Shakespeare's works by heart, knew all about Muggle history, and knew possibly even more hexes than two certain dark-haired boys in his dormitory. Although they made up this difference by actually using everything they knew.

Hogwarts had changed his life. Not even his friends (what an exciting new word, _friends_) would have imagined just how much. And less than fifteen years later, he had been called to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at this very same school - and his life had taken another incredible turn. His friend was back. Again, he would never know just how much this meant to Remus. Or perhaps he would, he might already... it might be the same for him. He had changed so much...

Remus opened his backdoor and breathed in the summer air. It was a very sad thing to be thinking, but all that was still worth living for now were the meetings at Hogwarts every week. They consisted of Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Arthur Weasley, Arabella, Mundungus - and occasionally Sirius, whenever he had broken into a house with a fireplace and a stock of Floo powder. Thus, rather irregularly. The group seemed small, but fortunately there were many other supporters, those who worked at the Ministry and had to keep silent, those who lived far away and didn't exactly have too much of an organisational talent - and numerous were those, of course, who neither knew about Sirius nor about Snape. Both preferred to keep the truth restricted to their small circle. Snape could not risk being exposed, and Sirius was aware that in order to keep the already endangered group intact, it was unwise to awaken people's mistrust. It had taken him some time to achieve being trusted even in their small circle. McGonagall, Arthur, Mundungus, Arabella...

A small, humourless smile played around his lips. Not speaking of trusting the werewolf. The worst of all was still Snape, but then gaining Snape's respect and trust generally seemed impossible. Whom _did_ he respect? Dumbledore, in a way. McGonagall, probably... however, Remus watched him sneer rather openly at Arthur, narrow his eyes at the funny old lady that was Arabella, and raise his eyebrows at Mundungus whenever he started explaining one of his theories (which was, to tell the truth, always a rather tedious affair). And Sirius was out of question, of course. Snape wasn't easy. Yet, he was on their side, and although his manner made it clear that he would rather die than work together with them, he did.

Remus slowly walked through his absolutely overgrown garden. He never could find the patience to make it look acceptable these days... he had used to, in the phase of trying to seem as normal as possible to the outside. Now he just didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore, except a few people in the world. Had it not been for them, he would have found himself wondering why the hell he was fighting for the Light Side when it seemed to be clear that it did not want him.

Why fight for all those people's lives when the next thing they do is turn their back on you? When they possibly never live in peace again the day they find out a werewolf saved their lives?

And the worst thing was - he couldn't bring himself to hating them. He couldn't. It would have made it so much easier, but all he felt was sadness and depression, and yes, still that irrational, self-destructive hope.

A rustle in the bushes behind him made him turn around sharply and go for his wand. His hand halted in mid-air, however, when the woman in front of him raised her hands in defence at once, with an alarmed look on her face. Alarmed? No panic or terror? Well, that was a first. Since last year, at least.

Her hands sank down now, and she smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry to be sneaking up on you like this. I knocked at your door, but you didn't answer."

At once, he felt a rush of gratitude towards her for addressing him so politely, and called himself back quickly. How pitiful he had become. He suppressed another grimace and smiled at her politely. "I was just taking a small stroll in this wonderful weather. Shall we go inside?" He made his way towards the door, trying to ignore that tiny twinge in his stomach that told him he didn't like closed rooms, and beckoned her inside. She stayed where she was, however, and grinned. "I daresay we'd both rather stay outside."

Remus raised his eyebrows, and she added a bit hastily, "Like you said, the weather is wonderful. If you insist, you can get me a drink from inside and we'll talk here." Remus smiled and nodded. She was either very perceptive or just genuinely liked the outdoors.

I really need to stop suspecting everyone of deeper motives, he thought as he went inside to get some juice. Sometimes people just do things because they want to, you know, not everyone's final aim is exposing you. He groaned at himself and studied his guest through the kitchen window. She was one of the persons whom he would not have looked twice at -about his age, slightly shorter than him, pretty face, dark blond, shoulder length, slightly curled hair, black robes. She didn't seem like someone who wanted to attract attention, but not shy either. She was just... normal. Remus smiled as he realized that he was only surrounded by extroverted, extremely unusual persons - except Arthur, maybe. But then, that obsession with Muggle artefacts...

"Here you go..." he balanced two drinks and two chairs outside. "I hope you like orange juice?"

"I'd have killed for orange juice right now." She swallowed in big gulps, obviously very thirsty. "Took me a rather long time to find you. The fact that you live in a Muggle environment, I couldn't Apparate, and the neighbours weren't exactly helpful either. Well, admittedly I could have dressed differently." The woman looked down at her cloak and sighed. "Us magical folks, we're just too arrogant sometimes, aren't we?"

Remus smiled a small smile of approbation, not knowing what to say to that. "Why didn't you just send me an owl? I could have described it to you." His curiosity as to why she was here grew with every second.

"Oh, I didn't want to lose any time." Hm. "Oh God, I'm so impolite. My name's Charlotte Merlot." Stressed on the last syllable, her name sounded unmistakeably French; yet the pronounciation of her first name was definitely English. A paradox, to begin with. She stretched out her hand, again smiling apologetically, and Remus couldn't help wondering if she knew. She had to, but... "How can I help you, Miss Merlot?" There, he hadn't wanted to sound so impatient, but it would have had to come sooner or later anyway.

She put down her glass, looking at him with an odd expression - searching, and a bit curious too - apprehensive? Remus had always prided himself on being able to read people (an essential talent for him, he figured), but the emotions he thought to read on her face were so confusing and unusual that he wouldn't have guaranteed for anything this time.

"Mr Lupin, I opened up a school two years ago, of which I am now headmistress. Have you heard of the Centre for Lycanthropic Children?"

Remus almost choked on his juice and decided it would be wiser to set it down as well. He couldn't help staring at her. Was she making fun of him? But no, her expression was genuine...

"No, I haven't." The moment the words were out, he regretted his closed tone - a habit he had taken up years ago, one of the many defence mechanisms.

Charlotte Merlot didn't seem to pick up on his tone and nodded thoughtfully. "Well, it's not very known yet, and the people who do know it spread it... well, as a sort of dark rumour." An emotion that looked like disgust flitted quickly across her face before being replaced by the earlier, searching one. "Forgive me if I'm direct. I've heard about you from a friend whose daughter is at Hogwarts, and I imagine that after the... service... your colleague rendered you, you would have some difficulties finding a new job."

What an understatement. Remus nodded. "It has proven to be an adventurous search."

Miss Merlot shook her head, but rather at someone invisible than at him. "I thought so."

For a moment, they both sat there lost in thoughts, Remus quickly reviewing the last week -six schools, and each headmaster more creative than the previous one, the young woman opposite him staring at people and things only she could see. After a few seconds' silence, she looked at him again. "I would like you to work for me, Mr Lupin. I've heard that you are an excellent teacher, with a very profound knowledge as well as an unusually good hand with children."

As surprised as he was, Remus couldn't help smiling at such an unusual assessment by a child, as it must have been her friend's daughter who had described him like that. Miss Merlot watched him attentively, and he slowly breathed in and out. Could this be it - the upturn, finally?

He noticed that she was waiting for his answer and cleared his throat. "I -er- don't know what to say," he admitted, and a smile played around her lips. "Just say yes."

"Fine. Yes." He smiled back and briefly contemplated how strange it was: everything was upside-down. He was being offered a job, he was being asked, needed, and it depended on him. How strange indeed. "Which class do you have in mind for me?" he asked, suddenly realizing that he had no idea what was taught at her school. However, she raised an eyebrow as if it went without saying. "Defence Against the Dark Arts, naturally."

She must have sensed his surprise and added, "Unlike some people, it's my belief that these children have a right to the same education as all the other children." Her undertone sounded somewhat bitter. "We have the same classes and the same contents as Hogwarts, for instance. The building just looks a bit... different." Remus suddenly had a mental image of a thousand grey cells in a row and shuddered. Again, she seemed to sense this. "Don't worry, I'm sure you will like it."

Remus smiled again. "When does term start?"

Again the raised eyebrow. "September 1st."

Of course. "I'd like to have a look at the school soon," Remus said, again amusing himself because he was the one to be making the decisions. Miss Merlot nodded, standing up. "Whenever. I live there."

Remus raised his eyebrows and nodded, standing up as well. Suddenly he had grown incredibly impatient to see this school. "Would tomorrow be too early?" He was glad that he had kept himself from shouting 'right now!'. Miss Merlot nodded at once, and he began to understand that she was one of the most uncomplicated and unbureaucratic persons he had ever met. "Tomorrow then. What time suits you? Can I invite you for lunch, let's say one o'clock?" She grinned at his hesitation. "You don't want to miss that."

Remus grinned back. At some point in these past five minutes, a huge weight had unnoticeably fallen off his shoulders. It was a long time since he had felt this unrestricted and free. "Lunch at one then." She quickly described the location to him so as to make it easier for him to Apparate, and stretched out her hand. He grasped it quicker and tighter than was necessary, and she smiled warmly. "We're very lucky to have you, Mr Lupin." Remus smiled back, again. When was the last time he had smiled so much? Smiled so much and actually meant it? Probably at Harry's first birthday...

"By the way, who's this friend of yours who recommended me?" he asked as he walked her around the house.

"Her name's Dorothy Granger, why?"

Remus chuckled softly. "I should have known." He didn't respond to her inquiring look and shook hands with her again. "Thank you very much for visiting me, Miss Merlot."

"Charlotte. I'm looking forward to having you with us, Mr Lupin."

"Remus."

She grinned. And the usual question, altered slightly: When was the last time he had taken such an instant liking to another person? Well, that question probably had to be turned around, he thought, but quickly banished the slightly bitter feeling from his mind. It wasn't all that hard to feel happy right now, anyway.

"I'll see you tomorrow then." He only smiled in response. Everything he would have had to say in this moment was too long, too confusing and too emotional. He watched her walk around the corner before he pounded into the house like a teenager, grabbing quill and parchment and flinging himself across his bed.


	2. Chapter 2

__

A/N: Thanks to my betas Cas and Zsenya, and to everyone who reviewed.

Chapter 2

Remus didn't like Apparating. For one thing, it made him slightly dizzy. For another, and this was far more important, he regretted being thrown into an unknown, new place without the chance of getting to know it slowly. He would never forget his first train ride to Hogwarts, which had also been his first train ride ever. The landscape he saw outside the window had still passed by too quickly for him to take in every detail, but it had been slow enough to adapt to the new atmosphere, to convince himself that he really was going to Hogwarts. To be honest, he had both looked forward to and dreaded arriving. He would have preferred walking, but admittedly, that would have taken him days. 

And one good thing about Apparating, he thought as he looked around him, was that it was incredibly practical.

He was standing in the middle of a wide, wild field, full of cornflowers, poppies, daisies and some flowers he had never seen before, some of them coming up to his knees. It stretched as far as he could see to the left and behind him, and the wind and smell told him that to his right, a few miles off, there was the sea. He was in Cornwall, in the very southwest of England, far from any Muggle or wizarding town. He smiled while gazing over the field that was in itself much like an ocean. This place had been very well chosen. And he had been very well guided: he was standing right in front of the school.

The building was, to his relief, not the grey, institutionalised block that the word "Centre" had suggested. On the contrary, it was an extremely pleasant-looking old manor house. The walls were coloured a warm red-brown, and the overall style of the house immediately triggered an automatic part of Remus' mind, which whispered 'seventeenth century'.

But above all, the house was much, much bigger than he had thought. His first mental image, the hundreds of grey cells in a row, had seemed quite ridiculous to him a little while after Charlotte had gone. Surely there would not be more than a few children; after all, for a child to be bitten by a werewolf and survive was most unlikely, and he had never heard of any cases other than his own. And the ones he had heard of had died at a very young age.

This house, however, looked almost like a small castle – three storeys, at least fifteen metres wide, with a small tower on either end of the building.

He breathed slowly, suddenly overwhelmed by sadness. "So many of you?" he whispered, his face in a light frown.

An invisible clock struck one. Remus willed himself out of his reverie and started marching towards the house, eagerly, reluctantly. He had thought he wanted this more than anything, but now...

"Remus!" The voice came from above. He looked up to see Charlotte's head sticking out of a window on the third storey. Her hair hung wildly around her face as if she had been running. "Are you going to get a move on, or shall I eat my lasagne alone?" He smiled at her and nodded that he was coming, unsure of what to say. Her head disappeared again, and the window slammed shut in what Remus assumed –hoped– was mock annoyance. He walked up the few marble steps that led up to the entrance, pushed the doors open – 

–and jumped backwards in alarm as a huge transparent shape shot towards him and came to a halt mere centimetres before his face.

Enormous eyes stared into his own and, impossibly, widened even more. There was a low, soft moan, and then a deep, quiet voice spoke.

"A lot of pain in those eyes, Remus Lupin." The ghost floated backwards and, eyeing him from head to toe, raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Quite… extraordinary." Remus was too startled to ask what he meant, and instead chose to quietly study the ghost. He was at least two metres tall and more than half of that wide, was dressed in a formal suit with a cravat, and his hair was parted neatly in the middle. He looked quite the distinguished and important gentleman.

"Sir Anthony Middleton," he declared in his pleasant baritone and, to Remus' surprise, bowed deeply. "The Manor's oldest inhabitant. We are honoured to have you with us, Master Remus." 

Remus didn't know how to react to this entirely unusual greeting, so he merely nodded. The ghost who called himself Sir Anthony chuckled at his puzzlement. "But you must have a lot of experience with my kind from that school of yours?"

Involuntarily, Remus had to smile, and although there were a hundred questions swarming about in his head, the one that first came to mind was, "Is there anything you don't know about me?" 

Sir Anthony smiled pleasantly, obviously flattered with Remus' instant acknowledgement of his wisdom. "Not much, young Remus, not much. I am an old, old ghost, and I have seen many of your kind, each one more intriguing than the last." He frowned suddenly, and his massive head tilted to one side, he murmured, "Not quite as many like you, however."

Remus had just opened his mouth to ask what the ghost meant, when he heard a noise above him and looked upwards to see Charlotte leaning over the white balustrades on the second storey, grinning. "I was wondering if you had lost your way. Did you plan to keep my guest to yourself, Sir Anthony?" She addressed the ghost in a bad imitation of a severe tone. 

He instantly picked up on the game and bowed deeply, making a sorrowful face. "Ashamed, Mistress Charlotte; profoundly ashamed. I must admit that I had quite forgotten my task of escorting your guest safely to your quarters and chose instead to dwell in an analysis of this entirely fascinating person." 

Remus almost blushed, while Charlotte gave up her strict manner instantly and laughed. "All right, Sir Tony, considering these special circumstances, I will forgive you. Will you be so kind as to fulfil your task now whilst I dash ahead and make sure that everything is quite perfect for my entirely fascinating guest?" Sir Anthony chuckled and bowed again, while Charlotte disappeared. 

The ghost turned to Remus. "Of all the persons who have ever owned Middleton Manor, this woman is decidedly my favourite." He grimaced and added quickly, "But do make sure she never finds that out." Remus had to laugh, and followed Sir Anthony, who was slowly floating upstairs. All the while, he had been studying the ghost and almost forgotten to take in his surroundings. Now, he looked around himself attentively. 

Not so much unlike Hogwarts, he found himself thinking. It had the same ancient, mysterious touch to it; however, while everything was of course smaller, it was also _lighter. _That typical Hogwarts half-castle-half-dungeon atmosphere, rendering the place both majestic and intimidating, could not be felt here; the place was dominated by an extremely familiar feeling. The house was just as grand inside as out.

The hall was floored with large, black and white marble squares. Light streaming through the windows on the left and right of the great oak door he had entered through, illuminated a huge marble fireplace at the other end, big enough to stand in. Instead of the usual heraldic figures decorating it, however, there were two large, white busts of the same woman's head framing it. Remus thought he caught one winking at him as he walked past, but he wasn't sure. 

He slowly started climbing the richly ornamented staircase, which was under the tower on the right, and looked down, taking in the panelled walls, dotted with swords, shields, and a few stuffed animals' heads – Remus' heart gave a funny jolt at the sight of a stag's head, and he quickly looked on to the far end of the Hall, where there was a handsome minstrel's gallery.

Looking back up, he saw Sir Anthony waiting for him at the top of the staircase, and he hurried upwards, glancing at the Muggle pictures of former inhabitants on the walls on his way. He thought they all looked very strict, sour-faced and unmoving. The pictures continued all the way up the stairs and also decorated the walls of the second storey. He stood at the top for a moment where Charlotte had done, looking down at the hall over the white balustrades.

Sir Anthony had apparently been waiting for him to catch up before he continued to climb the stairs. Remus briefly amused himself with wondering what would be behind the three doors on this storey, then followed the ghost, who finally stopped at the top of the stairs on the third storey. They passed the door to their left and entered through the one in front.

He found himself in a relatively small room, decorated in the same style as the hall. It looked like a common room – the teachers', he assumed, seeing piles of books and magical ingredients lying around here and there. Four more rooms seemed to be connected to this one. The ghost led him to the door on the far right and turned around, speaking again for the first time in minutes.

"You will find Mistress Charlotte's quarters behind this door," he said, still in that oddly formal tone. "I wish you a pleasant meal." And he floated away. Remus moved to open the door – but the moment he had touched the door handle, he felt something pull him in. Within a second, he was standing in the most peculiar room he had ever seen.

'Room' was possibly an inappropriate term in this case. A room, Remus reminded himself, had walls.

"Will you join me at my little table, Sir?" A pretty young lady who seemed to have come through a hole in time a few minutes ago sat at a high, white table a few metres from him, holding up a glass of red wine. Her neat, aristocratic coiffure, with hair pinned to the back and the occasional curl falling out at the sides, perfectly matched her seventeenth century clothing. So did everything else really. 

The table was standing on a green hill, surrounded by most beautiful countryside stretching out as far as Remus could see, with trees and even small houses to be seen in the distance. Birds and insects were busily flying around him, and the air smelt of morning dew. Sure enough, when he finally dared to move, his feet made a slight squashing sound on the damp grass. He looked quickly behind him to see that the door had gone.

Charlotte watched Remus amusedly, but seemed to have no intentions of moving; instead, she waited for him to come up to her before rising almost lazily from her chair and holding up her free hand for him to kiss it. He did so, quickly, and she smiled. "My my, you are looking good, Sir Remus." Remus gave a slight frown and wondered for a brief moment whether she was making fun of him – he wouldn't have been surprised, since he had not exactly gone out of his way to make a good appearance. Never having cared much for elegant dress, his new robes were not extremely fashionable, just very simple and practical.

But when he looked down at himself automatically, he saw to his utter surprise that he, too, had somehow adapted to the surroundings; he seemed to have changed the moment he had entered the, well, the landscape. He was now dressed in rather odd clothes, as he found, yet oddly comfortable: Dark brown, neatly ironed trousers, black, polished shoes, a lighter brown waistcoat buttoned up to the very top; and the most peculiar thing was the white shirt, with a very high collar and long, wide sleeves. Yes, seventeenth century indeed, from what he remembered from History of Magic. Remus felt a bit clownish; but Charlotte seemed to think he fitted into the atmosphere.

__

Well, another eccentric Headmaster. Smiling wryly to himself, he sat down at the table opposite her. It had been set artfully, with majolica dishes, pewter mugs and – no, not silverware, but stainless steel cutlery, the only thing that seemed out of time. He found himself wondering whether seventeenth century people had eaten lasagne on a regular basis. He turned his gaze away from his surroundings to look at Charlotte, who was clearly enjoying his puzzlement and looked at him in an imitation of ladylike arrogance.

He was not going to let her win this little game. Lifting his glass which she had filled with wine, he exclaimed, "Cheers, my lady! I honour your attempt of surpassing Albus Dumbledore's idiosyncrasy, fruitless as it may be in the long run."

She looked at him for a moment in great surprise, then burst out laughing. "Sir Remus, I must admit to having quite wrongly assessed your character. What a delightful surprise." Their glasses touched, giving a high, melodious tinkle. Remus smiled graciously. "Do not grieve, you are not the first to misjudge me." He looked at his glass of wine and had to grin. "Merlot?"

Charlotte's eyes narrowed in comical fury, and she set her glass down abruptly, some drops of wine falling on the tablecloth. "Remus Lupin! You have no idea how much I was tortured with that joke at school! You're a bastard to be poking in that wound!" In, once more, mock offence, she leant back and crossed her arms, staring at him like a small, obstinate child.

Remus laughed out loud, sounding strange and unfamiliar to his ears. "So you really went to Beauxbatons?"

She dropped her manner instantly and smiled again, taking a sip of her wine. "Yes. I was born in England, but my family is French, and I was brought up in France. The Merlots." She smiled sourly. "This is Pinot, by the way."

"Ah. Well they do sound awfully similar."

Charlotte snorted. "Bloody Englishman." Remus laughed again, surprising himself; he had not even known her for a day and already felt more at ease around her than around others he had known for much longer. If she had this effect on everyone, she must definitely be a good Headmistress. She had Dumbledore's aura of trust and warmth, combined with a certain motherliness. Remus hid his smile behind his glass. But Charlotte was busy anyway; she had risen from her chair and was now standing at a trolley that he was sure had appeared out of thin air beside the table, and filling both their plates with –yes, indeed, steaming lasagne. 

"So tell me," Remus said after his second helping of the strikingly delicious lasagne, "did you use the coincidental or the individual _Mutatio Habitationis_?"

Charlotte raised an eyebrow at him, but had to chuckle at the sight of his straight face. "Well, Professor Lupin, I am of course infinitely glad that I have hired such a competent teacher. Now try and immerse yourself in the art of empathy for a moment: What do you think would suit my character best?"

Remus tilted his head and studied her, pretending to consider this, and said after a moment: "I would think your personality requires the individual version of the spell."

"Indeed. And why, Professor?"

"Because you would need a room that changes its surroundings according to your caprices."

She glared at him. "The word is 'moods', Remus."

"No, I believe I have chosen just the right word."

Charlotte crossed her arms again, going back to offended child mode. Remus stared at her patronisingly. After a second or two, both started laughing.

"I'm glad you're here." Charlotte stood up and put their plates, cleaned magically, into a small cupboard that vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. 

Remus stood up as well, helping her to clean up and then escorted her from the table. "So am I."

"Shall we do a quick tour of the school?" Remus nodded, and before he could even look at her, they were standing in the common room again, wearing their robes. It was odd being back in a normal room – he couldn't help checking behind him to find the door again, which looked perfectly innocent.

"Classrooms and teachers on this floor," Charlotte said, motioning around her. "The teachers' common room, and you'll find all the teachers' quarters behind these doors." Remus quickly wondered which subjects would be taught by such a limited number of teachers, wondered why there were so little teachers, and laughed at himself for being so naive. 

Charlotte was leading him back towards the door he had come through, and they found themselves in front of the staircase again. Charlotte motioned to the door on their right. "Classrooms," she said, opening the door. "First we have Transf– _putain_!"

A pig was running towards them. 

Remus stared. Another pig. And another. The room was crowded with them. Charlotte quickly slammed the door shut and cursed again. 

Remus tried to keep a straight face. Charlotte turned around and raised her hands in comical desperation. "Yes, well. That was the Transfiguration classroom. The furniture seems to have taken on a life of its own." She smiled an embarrassed smile. "Well, never mind – we'll get Pablo to fix that, and I'll show you the classrooms later." 

"The other classrooms are behind this one?" Remus inquired, following Charlotte down the stairs. He felt it was better to change the subject, since Charlotte seemed uncomfortable about this one.

She turned towards him. "Yes, all the classrooms are interconnected – but don't worry, your quarters are connected to yours." Remus saw no point in asking how that was possible. Hogwarts had taught him a few lessons. Besides, he had a hard time adapting to her small, quick steps and found himself more racing than walking behind her.

They had arrived again at what Remus had already baptised the picture gallery, on the second storey, opening down to the hall. Charlotte marched towards the door closest to the stairs and opened it.

"And voilà - the Common Room." There was no mistaking the capital letters. They were standing in a very spacious, cosy room, furnished with numerous chairs, armchairs, sofas and tables. A fireplace was glowing in front of them, but Remus noticed it didn't give off any heat – probably just for the atmosphere, he thought, smiling.

"These doors," Charlotte motioned to their right and far left, "lead to the towers. Over there we've got the boys' dormitories, here are the girls'. And over here-" she walked towards the third door, to their left, "is the library."

Remus had never realised just how much Hogwarts had spoiled him. This library was _tiny. _Well, what had he expected? The shelves reached up to the ceiling and were packed with books, but the room was rather small. He quickly looked for the Dark Arts section and thought he spotted a few books in the far left corner.

"Not spectacular, is it?" Remus looked around and saw Charlotte looking at him with an unreadable expression, and he quickly tried to put on a neutral face. "It will do." 

Bravo, Remus! Simply ingenious! As if she weren't already apprehensive enough about your reaction to the school. For he knew why she was racing everywhere. She tried not to show it, but she was obviously nervous. 

Remus smiled and took another, what he hoped was approving look around the library before walking out into the Common Room again. Charlotte followed him, and gazing around it she said, "It's not always this empty, but not many of the children are here during the holidays." 

Something inside Remus twinged. "Some of them stay here regularly?"

She looked at him in surprise. "Well, not all of them have a place to go", she said matter-of-factly. The simplicity of the phrase was painful. Remus felt his throat tighten. _Of course. I of all people should have known... _He suddenly felt unable to hold back the question that he had unconsciously been occupied with for the whole time.

"How many children are there?"

Charlotte looked at him quickly, obviously realising how much it had taken him to ask this. 

"Twenty-one." 

Remus took a deep, sharp breath. This time, she didn't look at him. "Thirteen boys and eight girls. They sleep in rooms of three each, so in the girls' case we have two rooms of three and one room of two. They also have two bathrooms, for I assure you, girls can never have too many." 

__

Attempt to lighten up the mood registered. All the same, he felt a bit nauseated. Charlotte still didn't look at him, but talked on quickly, obviously trying to avoid a silence herself.

"A few rooms are unoccupied. They're not needed at the moment..." She let the sentence trail, and Remus felt he knew what these rooms were for, but he couldn't ask.

She looked at him now, cautiously, probably not sure what to say next. Remus, having stared into the room, felt her gaze and turned around, trying to look composed. There was no point in worrying her. _Come on now, you're an expert at playacting. _But before he could open his mouth to suggest that they go down to the dining room, or go and see about that herd of pigs –he was sure he would have come up with something witty– a door to his right opened. He heard it rather than saw it, and judged from the direction that it must be the entrance to the girls' dormitories. Slowly, he turned around.

She was tall. 

Almost too tall for her age. _She can't be older than Harry._ Yet she easily came up to Remus' eye level. She was also too thin, he noticed with a slight pang. Her cheekbones stood out clearly, and her face, illuminated by the flickering light above her, seemed waxen, almost artificial except for the dark eyes that seemed overlarge. She stood with her hand resting on the handle of the door, half opened. Remus could make out faint noises coming from inside, the creak of a chair, laughter, and was that a piano? He noticed sadly that while she was looking at him full of curiosity, there was also fear in her gaze.

"Nora," Charlotte broke the uncomfortable silence, and the girl closed the door quietly and approached them, hesitantly, but seemingly relieved by the Headmistress' presence. Moving her gaze away from Remus, she looked at Charlotte, and to his great surprise, smiled. It was a small smile, but nevertheless. _Makes her whole face come alive._

"Miss Merlot," Nora said, and seemed to feel she needed to add something. "You weren't there for lunch." It wasn't so much a statement as an unspoken question, with another furtive glance at Remus. He looked at Charlotte and saw that she was smiling, as well.

"I had to welcome your new teacher." Nora's look at him was open now, curious, and surprised. Charlotte continued, adopting a purposefully formal tone: "May I present the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – Professor Lupin?" She waved her hand elegantly towards him in introduction. 

Remus marvelled at the sound of it. _Professor _Lupin. He hadn't realised how much he had needed to hear it again.

Nora raised her eyebrows at Charlotte. "I thought you said you hadn't found anyone for the position?" she asked, and Remus suddenly found himself comparing her tone to that of students addressing teachers normally. It didn't lack in respect, but in... distance, he thought, and that was what he had remarked about Charlotte's tone as well. They seemed more like two friends than anything else. He looked back at Charlotte and noticed that she was raising a meaningful eyebrow at Nora, who seemed to pick up on the message immediately.

"I'm sorry, Professor Lupin," she addressed him, and he was relieved to see that her eyes had lost some of their fearfulness. "I'm Nora Hartfield. Thank you for accepting the job." She made it sound like it was a perfectly normal thing to say. To Remus, it sounded almost comical.

When had a student ever thanked him for accepting to teach them?

"Hello Nora," he said in his most pleasant tone. "I'm glad to be here." She eyed him, still warily, but he could see that, as usual, his talents hadn't let him down. Remus wasn't a man of false modesty. He knew that he was a good teacher. He knew he was a person who seemed trustworthy to most, especially children. Which was, of course, incredibly ironic because –as most people these days would have readily agreed– _something like him_ was far from being trustworthy.

Of course, it didn't look like this one was going to give him an easy time – but he was beginning to break through her barriers. 

__

"Disgusting, Remus, how you see them as objects to be conquered. They're children you know."

"Oh, shut up, Padfoot."

"Well!" Charlotte's voice broke into his thoughts. "I suggest I show your new teacher the dining room now, and you go and spread the gossip around the whole school. Right?"

"Right." Nora looked slightly amused at Charlotte's overly cheerful tone, but turned around obediently and disappeared again. For a small moment, before the door had fully closed, Remus could hear the noises from inside again. Chattering, which stopped abruptly. He smiled. Nora's facial expression probably spoke for itself – although he did wonder what exactly it would look like.

"She's extremely pretty, isn't she?"

Remus turned to Charlotte, who was still looking at the closed door. He frowned. "I hadn't even noticed that." It was true – he had concentrated on her pallor and thin, too thin, body. 

Charlotte turned her head and, seeing that he was serious, raised her eyebrows. "You would be the only male in here who hasn't, then." She smiled, taking his arm. "Come on, Professor Lupin, I'll show you the rest of our school."

***


	3. Chapter 3

__

A/N: Thanks to my betas Cas and Zsenya, and to everyone who reviewed.

Chapter 3

It was weird using the secret passage again. Ever since their small group had met again for the first time, over a month ago, Remus had used the passage on the second floor, the one behind the golden armour. The one he and Peter had found in third year. And he still hadn't grown accustomed to using it again. 

Even more so since he was now allowed to, even required to. Dumbledore insisted -and Remus agreed- that a weekly meeting of eight wizards and witches, most of them well known to the public, at a place like Hogwarts, would not go without attracting attention. So they all came in secret, every Sunday morning at 9 o'clock.

Coming through the passage wasn't difficult (it led right into a small cottage outside Hogsmeade), but getting to the Headmaster's office without being seen was usually a small adventure. Filch, who had apparently found this passage a few years after they had graduated, had been kindly asked by Dumbledore not to patrol this particular corner for a while. But the children didn't know; not many children roamed the corridors on Sunday mornings, but there were always the exceptions. Apparating was impossible, and so was travelling by Floo powder – the fires inside of the castle were connected, but from outside, only a partial transport was possible, which was how Sirius had been communicating with them. His head sitting in the fire was certainly always an amusing sight. 

The protections on the castle did make things more difficult. However, Remus thought as he peered around a corner, there was next to no danger during the holidays, and term didn't start before Friday. The students weren't here yet, and only a few teachers were about – they, naturally, were to be avoided as well.

Friday, September first. Less than a week, and he already felt more nervous than he ever had in his life. Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher he could do, no problem. But whenever he so much as imagined twenty-one young werewolves sitting in front of him–

"Sst! Lupin!" He jumped, and turned around. Fletcher had apparently come through right behind him and was now struggling to catch up. Remus stopped, and the rotund, middle-aged wizard came to a halt next to him, clutching his side.

"Gabbling griffins, Lupin, one could think you're in a hurry or something!" Fletcher gave a hearty laugh, interrupted by a gasp for breath. "Come, dear fellow, it's not even quarter to nine."

Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "You know there could be teachers about, Mundungus," he muttered, resuming his quick pace. Fletcher groaned and broke into a small jog to keep up with Remus' long strides. It was true, Remus thought; Fletcher had never cared much about safety rules. He'd overheard him saying two weeks ago that if he were to run into a kid, he would say he was Filch's new assistant.

"So what are you doing here this early?" Fletcher asked, not bothering to keep his voice down. They still had a fair few stairs to climb, Remus thought, but it didn't sound like anyone was around. 

"I'm always here a bit earlier in case something happens," he answered. As obvious as it was, Remus was absolutely certain that Fletcher hadn't understood the allusion to his own being late almost every time: Mundungus wouldn't recognise irony if it hit him in the face.

Fletcher gave a snort and shook his head, but it was only to mutter, "The disciplined one, as always." Yes, discipline was another concept he had apparently never been able to grasp. Remus grinned to himself. "But what about you, Fletcher – did you get yourself a Time-Turner, or what sort of advanced spell did it take for you to be on time, once in your life?"

As long as they had known each other, and that was quite a long time, they had been playing this game: pretending to get on each other's nerves. As far as Remus was concerned, he was actually quite fond of Mundungus, annoying as he was. He had been surprised how easily they had got back into their old rhythm after not having seen each other for at least a decade. 

"Oh shut up, Lupin," Fletcher groaned. "Forgive me if I don't have heightened senses like you – what did the wolf do when it bit you, implant a clock?" 

Fletcher was the only one who got away with saying things like these. Perhaps it was the tone in which he said them. "Right as usual, Fletcher," said Remus, keeping a straight face.

They had arrived at the huge gargoyle that was the entrance to Dumbledore's office. "Red woollen socks," said Fletcher lazily, and while waiting for the gargoyle to open, turned around to Remus. "Honestly, is there a crazier headmaster than Dumbledore in the world?"

Remus smiled and kept his thoughts to himself, wondering whether he would ever lose that anxiety when he was reminded of the school again. He was looking forward to it, damn it – why did it have to simultaneously scare the wits out of him?

They were just about to enter the office when Remus caught a familiar smell and stopped short, then almost broke into a run and pushed the door open.

"Sirius!"

The tall man turned around and smiled. "Hullo there, Moony." 

Remus grinned, and crossing the room in a few strides, pulled Sirius into a hug, to his surprise receiving a hug in return. "It's so good seeing you." They both pulled away, looking each other up and down. "You look dreadful, Padfoot."

"Why, thanks, Moony." Sirius glared. "And likewise."

Remus laughed. Only now did he become aware of Dumbledore, who had been standing in the far corner in front of a bookshelf, looking at them fondly. "Well, now that the greetings are over, I can perhaps make us all some tea."

"Excellent idea, Albus." Fletcher leapt forward –Remus had never seen him walk properly– and shook the headmaster's hand. "Morning, Black," he said over his shoulder. 

"Fletcher," Sirius replied, still with that sarcastic edge to his voice. While Remus and Mundungus were always teasing each other like friends, Sirius had never liked the 'careless, ego-centric madman', and Sirius' own record certainly hadn't done much to improve Fletcher's opinion of him. However, they worked together efficiently. Quite unlike other members of the group.

"Why are you here?" Remus asked, as Fletcher went upstairs with Dumbledore to make tea. Sirius sat down on one of the chairs, and Remus couldn't help noticing the sagging shoulders and the dark rings under his eyes. This looked even more frightening when Sirius was smiling.

"I got your owl. Had to see you."

Something started burning behind Remus' eyes, and he sat down quickly. _Lupin, you are getting sentimental._ "You shouldn't have done that, Sirius. Think how dangerous –"

But Sirius waved his words away impatiently. "Tell me about the school," he said. "Have you met them yet?"

It was clear whom he meant by 'them'. Remus sighed, giving in to Sirius' impatience, and realising he was quite eager to talk about it himself. "Yes, one. A girl."

Sirius tilted his head, studying him carefully. "What was she like?"

Remus frowned, remembering Nora's expression and words. "Odd."

Sirius nodded at once, and Remus had to grin. "But of course you expected nothing else, Padfoot?" 

Sirius smiled, too. Remus wondered whether he would ever get used to seeing that again, after so many years of staring at the very same picture the _Daily Prophet_ had made of him just after the arrest. Remus might also have found it easier to adapt had the smile been the same one Sirius had been known to wear constantly _before_ everything had gone wrong. But, like everything else, it had changed.

"How could I, after knowing you," Sirius was saying, bringing Remus back into the present. "So how are you feeling?"

Remus shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know. I'm both dreading and looking forward to it." All of a sudden, he had to grin, and he saw from Sirius' face that they were both thinking the same thing. Eleven-year-old Remus had been terribly afraid of going to Hogwarts – and yet it had turned out to be the best time in his life.

"Congratulations, Remus," Albus had climbed down the stairs and now joined them in their corner, while Fletcher was still busy upsetting tea cups. "Sirius told me the wonderful news."

Remus smiled. Whenever the headmaster spoke, it felt like warm liquid running through his veins – and he had no idea how he did that. "Thank you. I had meant to send you a note earlier, but–"

Dumbledore cut him short with a wave of his hand. "I'm positive there were more important things at hand. Have you had a look at the school yet?"

But before Remus had a chance to answer, he was cut short by a soft voice speaking behind his back. 

"Now, now, don't tell me you've found yourself a job, Lupin."

Remus, who was sitting with his back to the door, saw Sirius' eyes fill with that all too familiar loathing. And there was no mistaking the voice anyway. 

"Hello Severus," he said pleasantly, turning around. Snape was standing in the doorway, his eyes darting back and forth between Sirius and Remus. 

"Sentimental reunion, I presume?"

"Quite so, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly, standing up. Snape looked as if he had liked to say something in return, but kept quiet and contented himself with glaring at Remus and Sirius. Remus had no idea how they would ever work together at all if Dumbledore weren't there. He was the connection between them. Well, he, and Voldemort.

The sound of breaking china, followed by a muttered swear word, rang through the uncomfortable silence. Apparently, Fletcher wasn't too good at balancing trays with a full teapot and seven teacups on them. Dumbledore raised an amused eyebrow and hurried upwards.

"Well, Lupin?" Snape was casually leaning against a shelf near their chairs, and spoke in a low voice so that Dumbledore wouldn't hear. "Tell me about your new job. Have you kept your little secret to yourself as always, or do your new employers have a certain suicidal tendency?"

Sirius stood up, and even though Remus was still looking at Snape, he could feel his friend trembling with rage. "He works for people who see him for what he is. A human being."

Snape laughed quietly. It was not a pleasant sound. "A misapprehension, if you ask me."

"No one's asking you." Sirius took a step forward. Remus laid a calming hand on his arm, fearing a rash action. Padfoot had always been fiercely protective of his friends, and often reacted impulsively where they were concerned.

"Never mind, Sirius," Remus said, not troubling to keep his voice low. "Severus here is just jealous because I get to teach Defence again, and he does not. How many years has it been, Severus?" Remus looked at the other man innocently.

Snape glared at him, at a loss for words, while Sirius chuckled quietly, his temper subsiding.

***

The following days passed in a blur. After a long discussion about responsibilities and dangers, Remus had been able to convince Sirius to come to his cottage before setting off again. The 'just for a few hours' Sirius had given reluctantly had, in the end, become three days. They had had so much to talk about that Remus had to force himself, on Wednesday morning, to pack his things and get ready for school, where he wanted to be at least two days early.

Sirius was sitting on the sofa, half awake, holding a mug of coffee and watching his friend silently.

"Scared?"

Remus looked up from his suitcase. The wicked smile he would have expected to see along with that word wasn't there. Sirius was looking at him earnestly, concern written on his face.

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Can't say I've been in a similar situation, but I suppose so." Sirius smiled. "You'll do great, Moony, just like you always do."

Remus sat down on his bed with a thump, sighing exasperatedly. "What if they –" But he broke off again. There were a million things he wanted to ask, a million things that could go wrong.

"– bite?" Sirius offered, and Remus had to laugh. His friend was obviously trying hard to cheer him up. "Mr. Lupin," he continued in a bored, deep voice, "the reason you're so apprehensive about this is clear. It means commitment."

Remus snorted. "And what would you mean by commitment, Dr. Black?"

"Well, until now you've always lived on the edge, haven't you?" Sirius, morphed into a psychiatrist, went on. "Your awareness of the fact that your jobs wouldn't last gave you an unbreakable sense of freedom. Now there's something that could last longer, and you feel restricted in your freedom."

"Oh, that's a whole lot of rubbish, Dr. Black," Remus retorted, grinning, and continued packing his belongings. Unfortunately, this didn't take as long as he would have wished, and half an hour later he found himself watching a large black dog disappear in the forest behind his house. He sighed loudly, closed his backdoor and Disapparated.

The school hadn't disappeared, he noticed with relief. Its outlines were slightly blurry today through light drizzle, but it was still a very mild day. Again, Remus started marching towards it, once more trying to suppress the nervous feeling in his stomach. The day after tomorrow...

The hall was deserted. It was a few minutes past nine, so most of the students were probably still sleeping or having breakfast. After a swift glance around the Hall, Remus started climbing the stairs in silence. At their 'tour of the school' two weeks ago, Charlotte had shown him his quarters. A very spacious, comfortable bedroom including a four-poster and a desk, a large bathroom and even a small balcony – the insides had obviously been magically expanded. He was looking forward to meeting the Transfiguration teacher.

Clearly, one should never make wishes without being prepared for the outcome. 

Remus entered the teacher's common room to find it occupied by someone who was buried in piles and piles of books, currently hidden behind an exceptionally large copy of _A guide to modern Arithmancy _by Hypotenus Hunsruck_._

Remus was just wondering whether he should make himself heard when a low, irritable man's voice spoke from behind the book.

"Come in or stay outside, but close the door."

Remus raised his eyebrows and closed the door quietly behind him, but still stood where he was, unsure of what to say. He really preferred dealing with people he could see. _Excuse me, I'm the new werewolf. Who are you?_

"Lupin, isn't it?" said the man, as if he had read his thoughts. He had a very light accent which Remus suspected was Spanish or something similar. Before he had any time to reply, though, the book was thrust aside, and the man belonging to the voice stared at Remus out of narrowed eyes.

There was nothing else to do but stare back. He was a very short man with a small, round face, very prominent features and short black hair. His skin was a bit darker than the average European and slightly wrinkled; he appeared to be in his forties, perhaps early fifties.

"Remus Lupin, Defence Against the Dark Arts," the other man said, after having looked him up and down over the rim of his reading glasses. It was not a question. Remus nodded, simultaneously wondering how someone could be so impolite. The man didn't show any intention of standing up, but was still giving Remus a piercing stare.

"Are we colleagues, then?" Remus asked. It would have been impossible for him to just leave the room at this point. The other man didn't seem to mind the awkward situation.

He nodded, his expression still unreadable. "Pablo Gómez, Transfiguration," he said and pointed at his book. "And soon, Arithmancy."

Remus was still standing at the door, shifting uncomfortably. The situation neither allowed for him to sit down nor to leave. "You'll be teaching two subjects?"

Gómez tilted his head, pretending to study him carefully. A very thin, though humourless smile stretched across his lips, and he said, "Yes, I suppose you will have a hard time adapting to a place with, er... more restricted means." His tone was clearly mocking.

Remus could have hit himself. _Of course._ That also explained, at least in part, why Pablo Gómez was so distanced, almost hostile. _The spoiled little brat from the city visits the countryside. _

All the while, Remus' expression never changed, and neither did his friendly tone. He was far too used to hostility. "I hope there's still a subject left for me to take over?"

Gómez raised his eyebrows. "Oh, believe me, there are a lot of subjects left." But he sounded a tiny bit friendlier now.

He took up his book again, demonstrating that the conversation was over. Remus moved across the room. "Well, I'll see you later then?"

A grunt came from behind the book. "Lunch at twelve, dinner at six, staff meeting tomorrow morning at eight."

"Thank you." Remus was glad when the door to his quarters had closed behind him, and he leant back against it with a sigh._ What a delightful new acquaintance! _He hoped that the other staff members would be more welcoming.

He stood there pondering his encounter for a while, then willed himself into moving and unpacking his belongings. He looked down at the small, battered suitcase in his hand. This very suitcase had contained his spellbooks and few belongings at the age of eleven. It was fuller now, and he had even had to bewitch it to make it lighter.

He started unpacking the books it carried, and while putting them on the shelf next to his bed and counting them automatically, he smiled wryly. Padfoot, upon coming to Remus' cottage for the first time in years, had been shocked to find that Remus possessed _"more books than socks. I think we did something wrong there, Moony, buying you books every Christmas."_ Then he had broken off, lost in thought, as he did so often now, and Remus had been glad he didn't push the subject further. 

True, all the clothes he owned did fit into one drawer. But then, he had never needed more, and he still managed the rather complicated Cleaning Charm Madam Pomfrey had taught him at school.

And he certainly preferred it this way, he thought as he stood back and cast a satisfied look over the three rows of books. His eyes fell on a dark brown, heavily bound folder on the far right, and he sighed, knowing exactly what it was. He thought it might have been ten years ago when he made it, maybe later. He had finally resolved to putting all of his letters in order and into a folder.

They were all there – letters from James, Sirius and Peter they had sent during the summer holidays, when there wasn't any time to visit him – they knew he could do with a lot of distraction during that time. And those from Madam Pomfrey, and a few other people, among them a Ravenclaw called Mary Callaghan. And then, of course, there were those from Lily, later on. The two of them had kept up a lively correspondence.

For years and years, he hadn't been able to even touch any of them. When he finally had, overwhelmed by melancholy, he had cried over every single one. Especially those from Sirius. He didn't know what had driven him to keep them, but he had – probably for the same reason that he could not throw away Peter's letters now.

He sighed, took out the heavy folder and sat down on the bed with it. It promptly fell open on his lap, on a letter from the summer after their fifth year. He recognised the neat little writing at once.

__

Hey Remus!

Hope you're well and good. I'm spending this week with my aunt, Mum's gone away to visit a few friends. My aunt's an old nutcase! I'm trying to spend as much time alone as possible, getting loads of homework done. Have you done that essay for Potions yet? I really don't understand the part about the rat hearts – I mean, not that I want to think _about it anyway..._

And off he was, in a long description of the problems he had had with that essay. Peter's letters had talked of school most of the time; it seemed that his holidays had never been that eventful. Not that Remus could talk, but Peter's surely hadn't compared to James' or Sirius'... Whenever possible, the four of them had visited each other, but especially James' parents had made a point of keeping their son to themselves for a while, since he only came home during the summer.

Remus was quite surprised to hear the clock strike twelve when he could have sworn that only half an hour had passed. He finished the letter he was reading, then tore his eyes away from the book and stood up. He had been so absorbed in his letters that his clothes were still in his suitcase, and he started unpacking them and putting them into a neat pile on a chair. 

Washing his hands in the bathroom, he gazed into the mirror absently. He was looking quite healthy for his standards, possibly due to three very enjoyable days. He splashed his face with water and smoothed his hair. Suddenly, he took his hands down, shook his head and smiled at himself. "I dare you to comment on that," he told the mirror, which gave an offended huff.

The common room was empty, thank God. He jogged down the steps, cursing himself for being late on the very first occasion. Once he had actually been famous for never being late.

He arrived at the bottom of the stairs in the Entrance Hall and passed the fireplace, walking swiftly towards the door to the dining room, which was ringing with loud talk and the clatter of forks and knives, when –

"YOU-ARE-LAST-IT'S-QUARTER-PAST!"

He whirled around, staring at the fireplace. The dining room behind the door had fallen very silent. Remus stared at the two busts of the same head, a round-faced, curly-haired woman. He could have sworn it was the left one who had screamed the words, but they were both smiling at him innocently now. He shrugged and half turned around again when the one on the right suddenly opened her mouth to yell:

"WHAT-A-SHAME-FOR-LATE-YOU-CAME!"

She looked at her twin, they both looked at Remus, who was staring at them, they looked at each other again, and suddenly burst out laughing. It was a very high, very loud laugh. Remus shook his head and walked away, opening the doors to the dining room.

They were sitting around the huge, round table in the middle, and they were all looking at him out of big eyes. 

Three adults, and ten children. Before he even had a chance to study them properly, Charlotte, sitting opposite the door, waved for him to come over. He sat down on the empty chair between Gómez and another woman and looked around. They were still staring at him.

"Well, folks, this is the encounter you've all been waiting for," said Charlotte, in her usual cheerful voice. "May I present – Professor Remus Lupin." 

The children were now exchanging glances, whispering to each other. Remus put on his best smile. "Hello, everyone. I'm glad to be here." Some of the looks that met this statement were actually incredulous. Something inside Remus shuddered. He was trying hard not to think. Not about their number, not about their faces, not about their expressions. No, best thing to look down at his plate, where a delicious looking portion of Spanish Omelette had just appeared. 

"So you've met Hedda and Jedda," Charlotte commented, as they were eating quietly. He could have sworn he had never met such quiet children, and he was desperately hoping this wasn't normal.

"If you mean those nice ladies outside in the Hall, yes indeed," Remus replied, and at once his comment was followed by whispers among the children. "Do they always speak in rhyme?" he inquired.

"Oh, yes," Charlotte said. "It's a very old charm, and they do seem to enjoy it now." 

She grinned, and set her fork down with a clatter. "Okay! Introductions. This is Pablo Gómez, our Transfiguration teacher." She pointed to the man on his left. 

Remus nodded at him. "We've already met." Gómez nodded curtly, and continued on his dish. Charlotte didn't see the look he gave Remus or ignored it, and pointed to the woman on Remus' right. "And this is Angela O'Connor, our school matron."

Remus smiled politely at the woman, thinking that he wouldn't have expected her to fill any other role. She was about Madam Pomfrey's age, but very thin and bony and quite tall. He wondered immediately whether she was a werewolf, and in a rapid flow of associations, he wondered almost simultaneously whether Charlotte was a werewolf, whether Pablo was one, where Pablo was from, where those three darker-coloured kids next to him and the other ones were from, and why the hell they were still staring at him as if he were a rarity in an exhibition.

Charlotte, meanwhile, was obviously trying to get the introductions over and done with. "You already know Nora." She made a gesture towards the pale girl, who gave a slight nod, her black eyes boring into Remus. Remus nodded back and smiled, and while Charlotte introduced the others, tried to memorise all the names. It was an almost hopeless task.

Jorge Guerrera, María Aciano and Gabriel Hernández were sitting between Pablo and Nora. Jorge, a boy in his early teens with black, longish curls and a determined look on his face, was from Colombia, and so was Gabriel, the oldest and tallest of the three, who looked as if he expected nothing and everything of life. They both looked like older brothers to María, in their midst, whom they were sitting very close to: a tiny person with an anxious face and a fringe that kept falling into her eyes. She was from Chile.

Remus barely had any time to memorise these details before he was led on. It was Nikolai and Andrej Kolnikov to Nora's left, brothers from Russia, both burly, red-faced boys of about fifteen years, both wearing a particularly closed expression.

Olivier Mbomo and Anne-Laure Dauphin to Charlotte's right; Olivier from Morocco, a boy in his late teens, with skin so dark that the white in his eyes stood out clearly; Anne-Laure from France, a pretty girl who seemed to like holding her nose high in the air. Rachel Fitzgerald, who was sitting next to her, looked very much like her: the only difference was the blonde hair, Remus thought. He guessed that they must be around fourteen years of age, seeing as they looked like twelve.

Finally, there was Jun Li from China. She was probably one of the oldest students, along with Nora; although she was so small that she could have passed as thirteen or fourteen as well. But when, upon hearing her name, she raised her head, and her almond eyes met Remus', he knew that she was far older than most of them, and had seen much more. _Funny that even among these children there are differences like that._

The rest of lunch continued in silence, with Charlotte occasionally asking Remus a question, which was always followed by an excited intake of breath around the table, and then whispering after his answer. He just couldn't decide whether their attitude towards him was hostile or just–

But the moment he asked himself this question, he had to smile. He knew the answer. James had told him, many years into their time at Hogwarts, what his first impression of Remus had been. And he had used exactly the same word: hostile. Remus hadn't seemed apprehensive, or shy; he had looked stubborn and arrogant, he had seemed as if he didn't want any contact with any of them. James and Sirius had even planned to play a prank on him at first. Fortunately, they had never found the chance to do so.

"... tomorrow at eight o'clock," Charlotte was saying, and Remus nodded automatically. "I know–", and he broke off, not being able to decide whether he should call the man 'Pablo' or 'Mr Gómez', so he continued instead: "How many teachers do we have?" 

Yes, he was seeing them tomorrow, but he liked to have an overview of things instead of being thrown into situations, as he had been about half an hour ago. On his first visit to the school, he had toyed with the idea of asking Charlotte for personal files or information on every single student in order to be prepared (he had done the same at Hogwarts, after all), but then he hadn't wanted to seem fussy.

"All in all, we're five," said Charlotte, and her voice had lost some of its cheerfulness. "Pablo teaches Transfiguration, Constance Jennings, Muggle Studies, Teri Longbottom, Charms and Flying, I teach Potions and History of Magic, and then there's you, of course." She smiled at him, albeit a little weakly. Remus smiled back, trying hard to hide his reaction.

__

Well, what did you expect, Lupin? Spoiled little brat, remember? The people at Hogwarts who had almost treated him as an equal had been a great, great exception. He knew what the people out there thought of werewolves – who of them would want to even be in the same room with one, let alone teach twenty-one of them? Not only was everyone scared, but they would also furiously deny any help to someone who wanted to educate them. To educate them and actually bring them a step closer to integration into "normal" society – what a horrible idea!

Remus sighed. At once, everyone looked up, and he realised it had been a very loud sigh. Charlotte was looking down at her plate, and he cursed himself inwardly. "I'm looking forward to meeting the others," he said, and Charlotte looked up, then smiled gratefully. The children resumed their whispering.

***


	4. Chapter 4

__

A/N: Thanks to my betas Cas and Zsenya, and to everyone who reviewed. Also thanks to Britzen for help with the American dialogue.

Chapter Four

Remus woke up to the faint sound of music behind his door. He strained his ears; a string quartet, _allegro ma non troppo_?

He opened his eyes blearily and, remembering where he was, gazed around the room. It looked just as cosy as it had last night. A soft breeze was coming through the open window, and he got up and glanced down over the garden. 

Two weeks ago, he had taken a walk through it with Charlotte and had remarked to her how pleasantly wild it looked. He had never seen so many different plants in one place: palm-trees, Japanese cherry trees, wild rose-bushes, hyacinths... it looked as though someone had just thrown together all the plants and flowers they liked, regardless of the environment or of conventions. Charlotte had laughed, and exclaimed, 'Well, that's exactly what we did!' Apparently everyone had 'contributed' the plant they liked best. The different choices of all the children and teachers made for an interesting mix. And apparently, all the plants had been charmed into flowering all year.

He yawned. Despite the fresh air, the comfortable bed and the relaxing evening before, he hadn't slept too well. But then, he rarely did. _A nice warm shower and a cup of coffee will do wonders._ Walking over to the bathroom, he passed the door to the common room and paused for a moment, tilting his head. Haydn, perhaps…

Showered and dressed, and feeling much more civil, he entered the teacher's common room and found Charlotte sitting in an armchair with her eyes closed, in front of a breakfast table set for six. The _allegro_ was nearing its end, and the cello was playing what sounded like the beginning of an _adagio_, when it was joined by a lute. A _lute_?

"Rousset!" he exclaimed.

Charlotte started, her eyes springing open. At the sight of him, she smiled and gestured to the armchair next to her, decreasing the volume with a flick of her wand at the same time.

"Yes, Rousset. _De l'héritage confondue. _Bit of a standard piece, I know."

Remus sat down. "Actually I've never heard it." At her incredulous look, he added, "I've only read about it. He was the first one to combine Muggle and wizarding instruments, wasn't he?"

Charlotte grinned. "Yes. That piece," she jerked her thumb upwards, "is actually quite legendary. Some say he even played it to contemporary Muggle composer Haydn." She laughed at Remus' raised eyebrows. "Apparently the poor man needed a bit of time to recover from the shock of seeing a lute hanging in mid-air and playing all by itself."

Remus laughed, and Charlotte tilted her head. "So, did you sleep well?"

He nodded. It wasn't a question he was required to answer truthfully. "The room's very nice."

"Well, it's not much." Again that apologetic tone! Remus quickly opened his mouth to assure her that it was, indeed, more than enough for him, when the door leading to the staircase opened. 

The short, plump woman who entered was in her forties – and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. For a moment, she and Remus looked at each other, equally surprised, then, following his gaze, she looked down at her clothes. 

"Well you can't expect me to put on that cloak with those temperatures we have outside!" Her remark broke off as suddenly as it had come, and she now looked shocked at having spoken so boldly. 

"I'm Constance Jennings," she said, more timidly, approaching him awkwardly with an outstretched hand. Remus stood up and shook it, smiling.

"Remus Lupin. What about a light version of _Frigido_?"

She blinked. "Pardon?" Then, suddenly, realisation dawned on her face. "Oh! Frigid!" She looked over at Charlotte. "Some sort of Freezing Charm, I assume?"

Charlotte nodded, and smiled at the puzzlement on Remus' face. They sat down, and Constance addressed Remus.

"You're the new teacher, I suppose?" Remus nodded.

"Well, it's nice to meet you," Constance said. "I've heard a few things about you." _Heard a few things? Is that why she's... _"You, apparently, haven't heard of me yet," Constance continued, and Remus shook his head, wondering where this was leading. 

"No, Charlotte just told me that you're the Muggle Studies teacher."

Constance nodded, her attitude still a weird mixture of confidence and shyness. "Well, you should know then that I'm not only the teacher of that subject, I'm also... sort of... its object."

__

O-oh. Remus couldn't help feeling a bit sheepish. Behind Constance, Charlotte was laughing silently at the look on his face. 

"Of course, ignore my comment about the _Frigido_ then," he said, trying to adjust quickly to the situation before it became even more embarrassing. "I'm sorry, I've just never heard of a wizarding school with a--"

"Muggle teacher," Constance filled in, smiling now. "You can say the word, I won't run screaming."

"You'll have to excuse our new professor," said an unpleasantly familiar voice from behind Remus, and he turned around to see Pablo Gómez standing in the doorway to his quarters, looking at Remus with that indefinable, closed expression. His tone was deceivingly neutral. "He's just never heard of a wizarding school that has to resort to hiring Muggles."

The room's temperature seemed to have dropped a few degrees from the moment the Transfiguration teacher spoke. He moved over to a chair and sat down without another word, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Charlotte smiled and cocked her head at him, as if he were teasing a good friend. 

"Any offence to present Muggles unintended, of course," she said. Gómez looked at her, looked over to Constance, nodded without smiling, and helped himself to some bread. 

Charlotte smiled vaguely at the other two. Remus made sure not to show any outward reaction, as he felt Constance looking at him, probably trying to see what he thought of the other man's behaviour. He had no intention of creating a bad atmosphere between them from the start.

Charlotte, as usual, engaged everyone in small talk, and after a short while Madam O'Connor joined them –Angela, Remus reminded himself– and sat down in the chair next to Constance. 

"Do we wait for Teri?" she asked, checking her watch before turning hungry eyes to the breakfast table again. "She's late."

Charlotte shrugged. "I suppose she's stuck with Babbling Barry again," she said, and all three women laughed. Gómez raised his eyebrows, looking sour, but said nothing. Remus looked inquiringly at Charlotte, but the Matron started explaining it herself.

"Babbling Barry is the man responsible for the Floo and Portkey Station in Salem, Massachusetts," she said. "That's where Teri lives, and Barry's office is where she has to pass four times a week."

"Apparently, the good man is one of those unfortunate people who like to hear themselves talk," Charlotte added, grinning. 

Remus nodded gravely. "Ah yes, I know that sort all too well." The women chuckled, and Remus decided to ask questions later. He had so many questions, and they were increasing by the minute – how Charlotte had come to know a witch from the other side of the world was one of them.

"Now, we can have a look at the timetables," Charlotte said, when they had been eating quietly for a while and the fifth teacher still hadn't appeared. "Nothing changes for Teri anyway." She handed a slip of parchment to everyone, and Remus studied his silently. It was a detailed timetable, not just listing his classes, but all of them. The children only appeared to have classes for two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon, and they seemed to be divided into two groups. Yet it appeared that he was teaching Defence four times a week.

"Cha-" he looked up and broke off, seeing that Charlotte had already been waiting for him to finish and smiled. "A few explanations, Remus. We've divided the kids up into two classes, depending on age, level and experience. You'll find that group one –hang on... you're teaching them Monday afternoon– has less experienced, but not necessarily younger students. The Kolnikov brothers are in group one, for instance, while Sofie Bradley and Samuel Harris are in the other group. You'll meet them tomorrow. Sofie's twelve, and Samuel's fourteen, but they're both very advanced. Two of our most studious, most ambitious students in fact." She handed him another slip of parchment. "Here, I've copied down the distribution for you."

Remus quickly glanced at the different names, a part of his brain registering the information (María Aciano, the shy little girl from Chile, was in the first group, while her two friends, or protectors? were in the second, he wondered whether that was such a good idea?), the other part still swarming with questions about the timetable.

"So both groups have Defence twice a week?" he asked, looking again at the timetable. "And Transfiguration and Muggle Studies too, as I see."

Gómez looked up at him. "We don't have many classes, in case you haven't noticed, Lupin," he said, his voice low. "So there's time left during the week. Transfiguration is an essential subject and can't be taught often enough."

"So, of course, are the others," Charlotte continued, looking slightly sour at Gómez' implied suggestion that her subjects weren't as important. "But I had to set priorities. The children haven't been taught Defence for two years now, and they have a lot of catching up to do. I'd like them to have double Charms too, but Teri's only available twice a week. 

"Now, as interesting as I find both Potions and History of Magic," she smiled sarcastically at Gómez, and Remus was glad to see she had regained her humour, "History isn't a priority in daily life, I'm afraid, and Potions – well, Potions poses a bit of a problem for them, as I'm sure you know."

All eyes were on him; as if they had never met an adult werewolf they could ask this question of. And so they probably hadn't, Remus thought with a bit of surprise, and nodded. "Yes, it's a bit of a strain. Two hours a week are really enough."

He suddenly remembered his first Potions lesson at Hogwarts, when he had entered the dungeon for the first time and had been met by such a horrible stench that it had almost knocked him over. Not just one smell, dozens, hundreds of different smells combined hung in that classroom, and Remus had found it one of the hardest things to force himself to walk in there and sit down, without anyone noticing his nausea.

Charlotte nodded, satisfied, but it wasn't a nod that implied she knew the experience. Neither did anyone else, Remus decided. Well, that answered _that_ question. 

"As for Muggle Studies," Charlotte continued, "it has a special importance here." She paused and looked at Constance, who turned to Remus.

"I don't know whether you ever did Muggle Studies at school?" she asked him, and he shook his head.

"I do teach them the wizarding view of Muggles," Constance explained, "Which, by the way, is _fascinating_." A grin flitted across her face and lingered in her eyes before vanishing. "But I also teach them how to live among Muggles; how to work electrical equipment, how to cook, wash, do housework without magic, and not least, how to dress properly. That takes up quite a bit of time."

Remus nodded slowly. That made sense – these children were being prepared for life among Muggles, since it was possible that they would never find a place in wizarding society. Something in his stomach turned. He ignored it. "Very sensible," he said instead. Constance nodded.

"So, what happens in the afternoons, from four to six?" he inquired, trying to distract the others as well as himself from his unease. "Study and homework, supervised by two teachers?"

Charlotte nodded. "As some subjects just aren't taught here yet, we try and work the basics out together. None of us is an expert in Herbology, for instance."

"Or Ancient Runes for that matter," added Angela O'Connor, and Constance chuckled. "Philip Hornby might be soon, though. He could teach the others."

"You've got to be kidding, I'll eat my broom if he ever says a word in class."

Constance shrugged. "Good point. He's not exactly a born teacher, is he?"

The Matron grinned. Gómez looked very bored indeed. "If we could get back to the matter at hand..." 

Charlotte nodded, while Angela and Constance exchanged a glance; then, again looked at Remus expectantly as if to see how he would react. He ignored their little excursion, while a part of his brain memorised the details about a boy he hadn't even met yet, and he turned to Charlotte again. 

"So these two hours consist of working out things together," he said.

"It's difficult to plan, though," the Headmistress said, as if she were guessing that this was an important bit of information for him. "What you do during these two hours varies depending on what interests the children most at the moment, how they're getting on with their homework, whether they have any questions about what they did in class... and sometimes, these two hours become a fairytale lesson." She leant back, winking at Constance.

Remus looked down at his timetable again. He was to work with the children on Mondays and Thursdays. He wondered what their preferences would be. One boy was apparently becoming an expert in Ancient Runes. Would they share his dislike for Divination?

He looked up again. "What happens on w–"

BAM. He had been too absorbed to hear the door opening and flinched at the sound of it slamming shut, behind a very large woman who was obviously fuming.

"That stupid, pathetic freak!" she bellowed, stamped over to where they were sitting, and fell into the remaining armchair with a groan. "I can't believe that sorry little excuse for a government official kept me for almost an hour!"

"Babbling Barry?" asked Charlotte, and Remus was surprised to see that neither she nor anyone else was smiling now, as they had before at the mention of that name.

"Oh yes," snarled the woman whose name was most probably Teri. "Foul, Stinkin' Babblin' Barry." Angela and Constance exchanged a glance again, and Charlotte looked uneasy, as if she didn't want to ask; but Teri was talking on loudly anyway.

"You know what he asked me?" She was pouring herself a cup of coffee, but her hands seemed to be shaking with anger, and Gómez quickly took the cup and mug with a consideration that Remus wouldn't have expected from him. Teri hardly seemed to notice. 

"He said, 'Are yah goin' back to the little monsters again, Teri?'"

A very uncomfortable silence hung in the room, only interrupted by Teri's fast breathing. She took an obvious effort to calm herself and took a sip of her coffee. "If he hadn't been the first person in that position who's never given me any problems passing, I swear I would've-" She stopped short in mid-sentence, her eyes resting on Remus for the first time. "Who're you?"

He stared back at her for a few seconds, surprised by such an outright question. Charlotte cleared her throat. "New teacher, Teri?"

The Charms teacher stared blankly at her for a moment, then nodded. "Course. Sorry, I completely forgot about that," she said to Remus, who nodded. "Remus Lupin, isn't it? I'm Teri Longbottom."

__

Ah yes. He had been surprised to hear the name the day before, but hadn't asked anything. His thoughts strayed to two people he had known long ago, then to a round, fearful little boy in Harry's class. He looked up and saw that Teri was watching him closely. 

"You were at Hogwarts before, weren't you?" she asked, in a quiet voice that seemed unusual for her. Remus nodded, and the other women looked at Teri closely, but she had started eating breakfast, obviously hungry, and her face didn't betray any emotion.

__

She must be about Nancy's age. Remus quickly looked away when Teri raised her head again, and he pretended to be studying his timetable while memories washed over him.

"Good," said Teri after a quick glance at the schedule. "That should work. If I get through Barry's office, that is. Maybe I should leave the house at five in the morning? Hey–," she turned to Remus again, "are you good at flying?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Er – I used to practise with a friend who played Quidditch, but I was never particularly good at it."

"Excuse me, Teri!" said Charlotte, sounding outraged, but judging from what Remus knew of her, she was just acting. "Are you suggesting that my flying skills aren't enough to help out when you're late?"

Teri raised her eyebrows. She looked very much like Gómez at that moment. "Well I'm sorry, Charlotte, but that mid-air somersault..." She grinned, suddenly, and Constance and Angela laughed out loud.

"Right," said Charlotte briskly, clasping her hands together. "Let's get back to the _actual_ subject of discussion – the children." She looked around. "I'm glad to say that Larry Levine has agreed to come back this year to teach María, and Rachel and Anne-Laure have expressed their interest to start learning with him too."

Angela snorted. "Well, of _course_ they would..."

"... since the piano is just such a _beautiful_ instrument," Constance chimed in, and both women laughed, while Pablo and Teri looked at each other with raised eyebrows and Charlotte pretended not to have heard anything.

"He will also be starting to teach Felix Rosenstrauch, who's been playing the violin for a couple of years," she continued, and this time Gómez was the first to react.

"Multi-talented man, isn't he, Levine?" he muttered, and Remus looked at him in surprise. _That's got to be the first time the man makes something resembling a joke._

"Oh Pablo, you're just envious," prompted Angela, and Constance giggled again, although her look at Gómez suggested that she wouldn't have dared teasing him like that.

"If we got that settled..." said Teri, in her usual loud voice, and the laughter died down. "I've found a woman in Salem who's agreed to come here once a week and help out a little with art lessons. The name's Julie Montgomery. Don't worry," she added, seeing Charlotte's worried look, "she wants to do it free of charge, and she knows about the kids. Caring, lovable old grandmother she is." The assessment sounded strange, coming from Teri, who didn't seem as if she had ever heard the word "lovable".

"Excellent," Charlotte said. "As far as I know, Jun, Robert and Aimée would be very interested in lessons. Perhaps she can teach them together if she doesn't have a lot of time. Okay, what's new to report on the children?" She looked around expectantly, apparently waiting for someone to begin. Angela took up on the silent demand.

"Nikolai Kolnikov has a sprained wrist," she began. "His right one, unfortunately, so mind you don't let him write anything. Anne-Laure Dauphin," (Remus noticed with amusement that she pronounced the name 'Dough-_fenn_') "tried that ridiculous pimple-repelling spell again and promptly succeeded in covering her face in green blisters. They're gone now, of course, but..." She paused, looking at Teri and Pablo who were exchanging a rather amused glance. 

"Yes, I thought so, you two," Angela said exasperatedly. "Try and hold yourselves back for once and don't address her about it, okay?" Teri and Pablo both stared at her accusingly, but then nodded as one.

For another half hour, they discussed various details about the children, ranging from Leonid Dimitroff's constantly snuffly nose, to Philip Hornby's obsession with Ancient Runes, Sofie Bradley's snobbish behaviour, and many other things, ending with Olivier Mbomo's big crush on Nora Hartfield which, apparently, made it impossible for him to catch one word of what the teacher was saying.

Later, when they were sitting back and talking about their summer holidays, when Teri was complaining loudly to Pablo about some people in Salem and Angela was explaining a Healing Charm to Constance in an equally loud voice, Charlotte moved her chair closer to Remus and bent over.

"There you are, then," she said, quietly. "I know you'd like to hear more, but I really want you to form your own opinion about them. You'll meet them tomorrow, one way or another."

"What strikes me–," Remus began to say, then stopped himself, wondering whether he should talk to her so openly; but she was looking at him expectantly, and he smiled. "What strikes me is how very similar to... well, normal children they sound, and yet how very different."

Charlotte laughed silently and leant back. "My dear Professor Lupin, you just summarised what we all have taken two years to realise."

~~~~

He was getting used to waking up in the strange room. Remus lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. The dim light coming through the window and his inner clock told him that it was far too early to be awake, but he knew he wouldn't be able to go to sleep again. He sat up, stretching tense muscles that hadn't eased during the night, thanks to another one of those dreams.

Remus got up, and his feet took him automatically to the window. He gazed over the garden and breathed in the cool air. The clock (he hadn't been able to resist looking on his way) had said six twenty-three; that wasn't so bad. He looked at his bed again, contemplating whether he should lie down again – but he frowned at once at the thought. He detested lying around and staring at ceilings, there had been too much of that in earlier years.

Making a quick decision, he got dressed, and found himself in the garden a short while later. He walked along the narrow paths, absently wondering who would choose hyacinths, as they smelt so very strongly; and finally sat down under one of the Japanese cherry trees. They were in full bloom; somehow he had the feeling they would be all year.

__

There you are, then. What an adventure! He was still nervous, there was no point denying it, but at least he had met the teachers now, and he had the impression that they would work together fairly well. He had also met, or at least seen the rest of the children the night before, and had been ridiculously relieved that none of them looked starved, or bruised, or even mentally deranged. He shook his head at himself. _Just like everyone else in your generalisations, aren't you?_

But still, twenty-one! He couldn't stop repeating the number to himself. A feeling of shame and guilt had been nagging at him for a while now. Why had he never, ever thought of this? How selfish he had been!

A snowy owl landed right in front of him interrupting his train of thought and patiently stuck out its leg, which had a letter attached to it. Remus took it off carefully and gave the owl a respectful pat on the beak. It hooted once, then stretched its wings and set off again, as if it knew perfectly well that the letter asked for no reply.

Remus unfolded the letter, quickly scanned the few words, and smiled, a warm feeling spreading through his body.

__

I know. You thought I'd forget the day. Not this time, Professor...

I wish you the best of luck and strength with your new job, Moony. 

Hope the colleagues and kids are nice. 

You're just what they need.

S.

~~~~

Breakfast passed very slowly. Remus tried to eat as much as his nervous stomach would allow, under the gaze of twenty-one children. Thankfully, a bit of the tension was broken when Tinh Shanyong, a tiny boy sitting between Felix Rosenstrauch and Madam O'Connor, tried to eat and drink while staring at Remus and spilled half of his pumpkin juice over his jumper. Felix, a cheerful looking boy from Germany, burst out laughing, and half of the table followed suit. Most of them still threw anxious looks at Remus, and the laughter ceased very soon, but at least he knew now that they did, in fact, _laugh._

All the while, he felt not only the children, but also the adults gazing at him, as if they were trying to see through his smile and find the nervous, terrified little bundle that he was. Their expectant attitude made him feel as if surviving the first day with the children equalled battling a dragon.

Half an hour later, having passed Sir Anthony ("Good luck to you, Master Remus") and Hedda and Jedda ("FRIDAY'S-HERE-NOW-DO-NOT-FEAR!"), he entered his classroom to find it already occupied by a girl and boy in two of the front seats, who were both reading, quill and parchment lying neatly next to their piles of books. He wasn't sure what their names were, although he was sure that they both started with the letter S; but when the girl looked up at him over thick spectacles and said, matter-of-factly, "Good morning, Professor", something clicked in his head. This was the infamous Sofie Bradley. And the blond boy next to her had to be Samuel Harris, who had secretly been introduced to him as Sofie's all-time faithful study companion.

"Good morning, Sofie, Samuel," he answered, moving to his desk and taking out his book. He had, naturally, been thinking and thinking about how to organise his first lesson. The practical approach he had taken two years ago had pleased the Hogwarts third-years greatly, he knew it; but there was no Boggart here, and he had no idea as to the magical abilities of the children. It was unwise to confront them with such a creature from the start when he didn't even know whether they could handle the simplest spells. (Quite apart from that, he wasn't even sure the Boggart would have had a hard time adapting to the respective fears of the children.)

So, he had resolved, not without a bit of hesitation, to not plan the first lesson at all; to let it happen as it would, test them on their basic abilities and answer any questions. 

__

"Very relaxed for a person practically obsessed with planning details," said the Sirius in his head. Remus grimaced inwardly and, as if to spite his friend, took out the slip of parchment Charlotte had given him and scanned through the names of the class, mentally preparing himself for every student. The class he was teaching this morning was the more advanced one and consisted of ten students. 

Sofie Bradley and Samuel Harris, the study duo, were the youngest children in the class. Rachel Fitzgerald and Karolka Wyszinski were always seen together, and came closest to resembling the normal female teenager; the giggly sort he had failed to comprehend as a boy and still found hard to work with as a teacher. They were completely different from Nora Hartfield and Jun Li, the two girls who seemed to enjoy each other's company because neither of them talked very much. And finally, there were Jorge Guerrera and Gabriel Hernández, the two boys from Colombia, Olivier Mbomo from Morocco, and Robert Parsons, a very tall, extremely introverted boy from Birmingham who had arrived the night before.

Remus started leafing through his first grade book, smiling every now and then at students coming in. His eyes on the book, he still remarked very consciously the furtive glances they threw at him and the tables they sat down at – he found this was always an interesting little detail about a student. 

Rachel Fitzgerald and Karolka Wyszinski, nodding at him eagerly, joined Sofie and Samuel in the front row and took out their books as well. Jun Li and Nora Hartfield sat down behind them; Olivier Mbomo arrived so quickly after them that Remus had to smile, and the boy sat down next to Jun. And finally, the last row was occupied by Gabriel Hernández, Jorge Guerrera, and Robert Parsons.

The clock struck nine. Remus, glad to be released from the attentive, thick silence that hung in the room, stood up.

"Good morning," he said pleasantly, his eyes wandering from face to face. "As you all know by now, you are here to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts. Now, seeing as most of you will have no experience with the subject, I have decided to dedicate this first lesson to an overview of what will be awaiting you, a small test of your general abilities and any questions that you might want to ask. 

"Now, I think we should start with the–" He stopped. Karolka Wyszinski was raising her hand, timidly, but decidedly. All the others looked back and forth between her and Remus.

"Yes, Karolka?" he said, doing his best to get the Polish pronunciation right.

"Professor, if you don't mind," Karolka said, her accent clear, but her tone very calm and confident. "I wonder if you could tell us what made it that you chose this special subject." 

__

Well, I didn't mean that sort of question! However, with all eyes on him, there was hardly a chance to evade answering it.

"Above all, it's a fascinating subject," he said, smiling, "as I'm sure you will all agree very soon. As for my personal motivation, well... ever since my classmates played a trick on me in first year involving a baby Kappa and a rather large amount of pepper," (Olivier and Sofie were actually smiling faintly), "I've considered it vital to arm myself against curses, hexes and-" he hesitated for the split of a second. "Dark Creatures."

There. He had said it. Oh Shit. Two words that would have caused vigorous nods and perhaps a few anxious looks in any other class hit this room like a bombshell. Remus was uncomfortably aware of his hands starting to sweat, which they _never_ did. While desperately searching for a way out of the situation, he held the children's stares up at him.

They weren't looking fearful, or sad. They were looking grim, as if hurt, but determined not to let anything show. And somehow, that felt familiar.

"Shall we proceed?" he asked into the ringing silence. "If you'd take out your wands..." He realised, with a small jolt, that he didn't even know whether they _had_ wands; he was relieved to be proven wrong.

For the next half hour, they went through various protective spells and Shielding Charms. He was surprised at how little they knew; spells that seemed natural to him now, that most first years at Hogwarts had known. _And why? Because they learned them at home from older siblings or friends._ Jorge, Gabriel and Jun proved to be the most experienced of the group; Sofie and Samuel knew most of the spells, but seemed to have difficulties using them. 

All the while, he felt that no-one was really concentrating and that most of them could have done better. He had been determined to pull through with the test, but when Olivier had tried a basic Hex-Deflection Spell for the umpteenth time, staring fearfully at Remus, and ended up shielding his table from view instead, something clicked in Remus. This was pointless. He marched back to his desk and sat down.

"All right. What do you want to know?"

Half a dozen hands shot into the air.

***


	5. Chapter 5

****

Author's Note: The story proceeds and the number of betas is steadily growing. Thanks to Cas, Zsenya and Britzen – you're a great help. So are, of course, all of _you:_ Readers and Reviewers, I thank you muchly. Please do go on giving me your inspiring comments. I'm also very grateful for Laurus Nobilis' help with the Spanish – thank you dear!

Chapter Five

"Did you really go to Hogwarts?"

The other hands sank down as quickly as they had shot up; everyone was eagerly awaiting Remus' answer to Rachel's question. 

Remus leant back in his chair. This was going to be a long talk. "Yes, I did."

"But HOW?" Jorge Guerrera in the last row burst out, and everyone flinched. Remus hadn't heard him speak before – the boy had a strong, stubborn tone to his voice. "I mean, how did you..." He hesitated. "They didn't _know, _right?"

Remus tried to force his heart to beat more slowly. There was no getting out of it now, he might as well sit it through. "The staff knew, the students didn't. The Headmaster made special... arrangements for me to transform." He hoped they wouldn't ask for details; he wasn't ready to give away the secret of the Shack.

But the students sat in silence, pondering what to ask him next, or perhaps wondering whether they _could_ ask what they wanted to know. Then Sofie Bradley spoke into the silence, in a calm, collected tone, as if she were trying to work out an exceptionally difficult spell.

"But you must have been absent for a few days every month. How come nobody ever found out?"

For a split second, Remus had to smile – oh, he knew what to expect from this girl! Then the full weight of what she had said sank into him.

__

"How come nobody ever found out?" No asking whether_ anyone did. _Sofie –and everyone else, judging by their looks– was assuming from the start that nobody could possibly have found out, since they knew he had completed his education at Hogwarts. Bloody hell.

"I invented all sorts of stories about relatives or myself being ill," he said. "They fooled... almost... everyone."

Sofie's eyes narrowed, and Jorge Guerrera started murmuring to Gabriel Hernández. 

"Almost?" Sofie asked, in a squeaky sort of voice.

Remus hesitated. This was his life he was spilling out in front of them. His deepest feelings were connected with the goings-on that he was expected to casually relate now. But there was really no other way, and they needed to know.

"My friends found out during my second year."

This time, it was Jun Li who spoke into the silence, in a would-be-controlled voice. "And what happened?"

__

They became unregistered Animagi, and, oh yeah, one of them is Sirius Black, who can turn into a big black dog. Clearly, there were some things he couldn't tell. "They simply told me we were friends, and nothing would change that." His voice shook slightly. _Nothing, Peter?_

He knew it. He was finding it hard to concentrate on the present with all these memories that inevitably brought strong feelings with them. But the children were looking at him now, and something in their eyes brought him back to the present. Incredulous eyes. They were completely astonished by what he had just said.

"And they...," Olivier Mbomo cleared his throat, a very deep, rumbling noise. "And they _covered up_ for you?"

Remus just nodded. There was, again, a ringing silence, and he tried not to worry too much about the questions that had still to come.

"But, Professor, how-" Samuel Harris, sitting in the front row, broke off as abruptly as he had begun, and started to stammer. "H-how did you manage to k-keep up with your education, being ... 'ill' for a few days every month?"

Sofie broke in, very eagerly. "Or did the Matron know of special healing techniques?"

Remus sighed resignedly. "No. There are no advanced techniques for that." _Not that anyone_ _ever bothered to find out either._ "I _was_ ill for a few days every month." The children looked at him expectantly. 

"I kept up with my homework as far as I could," he continued. "My friends helped me as much as they could, and... like I said, the staff knew. They made allowances for me. Not always very willingly, mind you..."

Silence. He felt as if he shouldn't have said that. The children's jaws were set, and some of them stared at their tables accusingly. Others merely looked up at him as if he had just explained that Phoenixes were reborn from the ashes.

"How _did_ Dumbledore manage to convince them?" Nora Hartfield burst out, and the four students in the first row turned around. It was obvious that Nora didn't talk much during class. 

"They must have been...," her voice fell to almost a whisper, "...terrified."

All eyes were upon him again, and Remus struggled with himself. She was right, of course – but could he say such a thing in front of these damaged young people? _But they know already, Lupin. Stop beating around the bush._

"Some of them were, yes. But Professor Dumbledore is considered one of the greatest wizards of our times, and most people trust him." His voice shook again. He owed Dumbledore much, much more than anyone could ever fathom. It was once more with an effort that he brought himself back to the present and looked around at the children. But most of them were lost in thoughts as well – thoughts, most likely, of terrified people.

How very strange this was. It should have given him some sort of comfort to talk to others who had experienced the same, or so he had thought. But all it was giving him was pain. He could not bear the thought that all of these children knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Professor?" Sofie Bradley was raising her hand, looking very fearful, as if she were about to ask a question she didn't want to ask. Remus gave her a small, encouraging nod, and she cleared her throat a bit too loudly.

"I was just wondering... er... have you ever taken the – Wolfsbane Potion?"

She had hesitated before the last words. There was an almost simultaneous intake of breath from all corners of the room, and Remus shuddered. _Oh, no._

"Yes." He looked around at every face, bursting with curiosity, and he gave a small resigned sigh. "None of you ever has." It was not a question.

They shook their heads. Remus frowned. He hadn't allowed himself to think about the full moons yet, and so he hadn't asked himself the question whether the Potion would be available at the school.

"We don't have it here?" he asked.

There was a loud snort, coming from the very back of the class. "Of course we don't." Gabriel Hernández' voice was quiet, but dripping with sarcasm, painfully intensified by his strong accent. "It's expensive, no? We cannot afford it, and no-one in his right mind would help us without the _cash_." He spat out the last word. 

Rachel Fitzgerald turned around to him, hissing, "Gabriel!" He raised her eyebrows at her. "What, afraid to shock the new teacher?" His voice was almost a growl now. "You and your girlfriends in your perfect world..."

"All right, that's enough," said Nora Hartfield, sitting between them. Her voice was calm and authoritative. They fell silent.

"What's it like, then?" asked Jun Li, in the unnervingly direct manner that Remus had the feeling was normal for her. "Taking the Potion, I mean." It seemed as if she had wanted to add something, but couldn't find the proper words.

"It allows you to keep your mind," Remus said. "The – person in question is no danger to anyone."

Jun stared at him. "The wolf is completely gone?" Rachel Fitzgerald and Karolka Wyszinski exchanged a look and both turned around to Jun, who was oblivious to their stare.

Remus winced. "Well... no. There is always something lingering in the back of your mind. A bit stronger than there is between the full moons." Jun nodded. Rachel and Karolka shuddered.

"And it still hurts," said Olivier Mbomo, in his deep, quiet voice. 

Remus had a sudden impulse to stand up and grip Olivier's arm. He resisted it.

"Yes."

__

"Mundo de mierda," said Jorge Guerrera, and though Remus didn't know a word of Spanish, he thought he got the meaning fairly well.

~~~

Lunch was dominated by excited chattering among the children, more sounds than they had produced in his presence so far, and meaningful glances at him from the other teachers. He had the feeling he had passed some sort of test. Not that it felt very comfortable, when the students from the second group seemed to relate every single word of what he had said to the others, while the teachers sitting nearby listened with just as much interest.

He was really not used to this absolute lack of privacy. It had to be like this for Harry, he thought, and he wondered how Harry was. Sirius had told him everything about the events of the summer, of course...

"Are you joining Pablo for the Transfiguration lesson this afternoon?" Charlotte interrupted his train of thought, and Remus nodded.

"Yes, we've talked about that. It's very kind of him to let me have a look at his class." _Although he might not have their full attention today. _The thought made him squirm. He _really_ wasn't used to this.

The lesson was much like he had imagined: Although sitting in the back of the class, he still somehow seemed to be the centre of attention. The children's heads kept turning, they whispered to each other, and Gómez had a hard time making them concentrate. Each child had a water goblet, which they were to transfigure into – 

"A teapot, Mr. Dimitroff." Gómez was standing in front of Leonid Dimitroff's desk in the second row. "And not a flowerpot. The nuances, please."

One of the Kolnikov brothers, sitting behind Leonid, sniggered and muttered something in Russian, to which Leonid turned around to glare at them. So did Gómez.

"Mr. Kolnikov, you know the rules," he said sternly. "No speaking Russian in the school." The boy gave a very slight nod, but Remus caught him muttering to his brother when Gómez had walked away.

'The nuances, please' was repeated over ten times before the class was over, and Remus couldn't blame the children for sighing in relief when the bell rang. Gómez was good, yes – he had a very good eye for details, and he definitely knew his theory. However, staring at a goblet for two hours would have made Remus despair, and he had the feeling Gómez never chose the most exciting items.

The atmosphere in the Common Room later was much more relaxed. The students from both groups sat together, doing their homework and studying at different tables. Gómez and Charlotte were scheduled for supervision this afternoon, but Charlotte had asked Remus to join them in order to give him an impression of what these two hours were like.

Remus had the impression the children wouldn't even have needed the supervision; most of them seemed very calm and concentrated. Some were poring over enormous books, some were experimenting, and every now and then a student would stand up to look for a book in the library, which was accessible from the Common Room. There was mild chattering, but it never grew loud; the teachers' function seemed to be, above all, to help out with problems and questions.

Before long, Charlotte came over to Remus' corner and sat down.

"I've never seen children concentrate so well," he said, more thinking aloud than addressing her. 

"Neither have I," Charlotte said. "These children are very different from other students. They have a completely different attitude towards schoolwork. They know they have to learn in order to..." There was a sad tone to her voice, and she broke off. "It wasn't like this in the beginning, mind you."

Remus looked at her with interest. Her gaze was unfocused, and a half-smile was on her face. "We had a hard time learning to trust each other." However, she seemed to decide to postpone her reminiscing, and fixed her eyes on him again. 

"Normally, I would advise you not to rush anything with them now. Constance was the last to come, about eight months ago, and the children have only just begun to trust her. But you're different." Her smile vanished completely, and her look at him was very earnest now. "From what I was able to gather at lunch, and a few minutes ago, they're approaching you very differently. I mean, the children are of course always blunt." A small grin crossed her features. "But they're also very closed and defensive, and it's rare for them to let a stranger come so close to them on the first day."

Remus frowned. And he thought _he_ had been the one to let them close – what had they given away by asking him all these questions? Well, he supposed appearing so obviously interested in another person and being so obviously desperate to share their thoughts with a grown-up did qualify as giving up their defence.

Charlotte seemed to have followed his line of thought. "With Teri, Pablo, Constance, Angela and me, most of them would just stay very cool and distant for a long while. That's safety, you know."

Remus winced. He knew that all right.

He looked around at the different tables. The children were sitting in groups he partly recognised already; yet, although they probably stuck to their groups, there was a strange feeling of togetherness in the room, as if there were trust and confidence in the whole group, as if, when it mattered, everyone would stick together.

He smiled a little at his amateurish take on empathy, but couldn't quite clear the feeling out of his mind.

"The children told me this morning that we don't have the Wolfsbane Potion." It came out in a rush, and with a tone that was more emotional than he would have wanted. He realised he had wanted to ask this question ever since this morning.

Charlotte looked at him, still unsmiling, and suddenly he felt sheepish for having assumed they had it. But there was no reproach in her voice. "You've taken it before, then?" she asked with great interest. He nodded.

"I told the children about it this morning. I – well, I suppose I hadn't given it much thought until now..."

But she waved his comment aside impatiently. "Do you know how to make it?"

Her eyes were full of hope, and Remus sighed. "No. The Potions Master at Hogwarts made it for me."

She nodded slowly. "Snape, isn't it? Yes, he's supposed to be very good. One of the best, in fact."

Remus had to smile. He had forgotten for a minute that Charlotte taught Potions as well. "I wasn't aware he had such a good reputation," he said, and suddenly saw Sirius grimace. "And have you tried to make it?" 

Charlotte sighed as well. "Countless times. I'm still studying it, but I'm not sure I'll ever get there. Besides, the ingredients..." She trailed off. "I haven't been able to find anyone who would make it for us yet, and I'm not sure how I would pay them." Her cheeks flushed in what seemed to be embarrassment. "What about Professor Snape? Do you think he'd consent to –"

Remus gave a short, dry laugh. A few students looked up and exchanged glances. He lowered his voice again. "I'm sorry to say that _Professor_ Snape would never consider helping – er, 'soulless, ravenous creatures' as I believe he once classified me."

A hot fury lit up in Charlotte's eyes for a second before vanishing, but she kept her fingers tightened around the arm of her chair for a long time. "I'm not sure I think so highly of him anymore."

Remus smiled weakly.

"Professor Merlot," Felix Rosenstrauch called from the far end of the room, and all heads shot up. Felix grinned apologetically. "I'm sorry to interrupt everyone, but where do we go tomorrow?"

Charlotte was obviously glad about the distraction. "We're going to Buckfastleigh and then to Plymouth, both of which are about an hour away," she said, and a few of the students looked at her in genuine excitement. 

"Plymouth!" Samuel Harris exclaimed, and feeling the others look at him, he began stammering again. "Th-that's the biggest town in Devon," he explained to Sofie Bradley, who was sitting next to him as usual. "I-it's got to have a quarter of a million inhabitants."

Excited chattering followed his explanation, and Charlotte winked at Remus. "It's a small tradition now, we spend the first Saturday of term on a school trip." She held up her hand before he could voice his doubts. "We're a group of students from a Muggle school. Connie makes everything look perfect, and we go to a different town every time." Her smile turned sad again. "It's a great occasion for the children to smell some fresh air and see other people, even if it is just for a day."

Remus nodded. It was a very good idea. "But Plymouth has a small wizarding community too, doesn't it?"

"Yes, and I've been battling with myself for weeks now whether we should seek it out or not." She frowned. "I've settled on yes. If anything goes wrong, we won't be back, and they have to see how other wizards live. Some of these children only know Muggle neighbourhoods. Others have only seen the wizarding world from its... well, its darker side."

Remus looked around at the students, who were still talking excitedly, and he wondered what exactly they had seen.

~~~

He had never been to Plymouth before. He had considered going there a few times, having realised long ago that bigger towns were far more... practical. More people meant more anonymity. But even though cities gave him a better chance of staying in one place for more than a month, he didn't like them. He had grown up in a small town, and Hogwarts had been much like a village itself; he liked smaller communities. He had often shaken his head at his own stupidity, but while his head told him that cities were the better choice, his heart had never agreed.

As he had expected, he liked Buckfastleigh from the moment they entered the town; it was just about the right size, and very green. Passers-by glanced at the bus driving through their streets, but didn't pay them any special attention.

Constance had arranged everything perfectly; she even drove the minibus she had hired somewhere. It had taken them more than an hour to get to Buckfastleigh, but no-one had complained. The children had spent the time playing games and talking at the top of their voices; Remus had sat in the front with Charlotte and Gómez. It had only been after Constance's announcement that they were twenty minutes away from the town that the volume had decreased, ever so slightly, and Remus thought he had seen excitement mingled with anxiety on some of their faces. He couldn't blame them.

"All right," Charlotte, in jeans, T-shirt and a light jacket, stood up in the front of the bus. "Here we are at Buckfast Abbey. We'll drop off the first group with Professors Gómez and Lupin now; the rest will drive on with Professor Jennings and me to the Butterflies and Otter Sanctuary. We'll pick the others up again in a few hours, have some lunch, and then we'll go on to Plymouth."

She had put special emphasis on the city's name, and it was clear to Remus that she was talking about visiting the wizarding community; judging by their faces, the children had understood her as well.

"Everything clear?" Charlotte called, and the students nodded. She threw Remus a quick questioning glance and he nodded as well, then got out of the bus after the students.

He and Gómez had the smaller group, which was not surprising considering the distinct lack of excitement of visiting an abbey for most children; indeed, he was surprised there were still eight of them. _Then again, it might not be a question of where we're going, but _who_ is going, _he thought as he watched Rachel Fitzgerald and Karolka Wyszinski stand together, or Olivier Mbomo stay suspiciously close to Jun Li and –much more important– Nora Hartfield.

"All right, you know the rules," said Gómez, and he seemed to address especially Olivier Mbomo, who (if it was at all possible) blushed a deep red. "No magic, no talk about magic or the school, and try to behave exactly like the Muggles do." The students nodded, and they started walking up the hill towards the abbey, an impressive Victorian building.

"It's _beautiful_." The words had come out as no more than a breath, and Remus looked around to see Karolka Wyszinski staring up at the abbey with a rapt expression. She had stopped short when the abbey had come into full view, and all the others were now assembled around her, looking at the abbey with varying degrees of interest and admiration.

"So," Olivier Mbomo cleared his throat, "is this Catholic, now, or Protestant?" He sounded quite embarrassed when he added, "Or, er, Anglican?"

Karolka, however, didn't seem to mind the question, or the fact that everyone was looking at her expectantly. "It's Catholic, I think. The building looks–" She stopped, suddenly, and looked at Robert Parsons. The tall, dark-haired boy had been standing slightly outside of the group, studying the abbey on his own, but it was clear to Remus that he had caught every word of the conversation and had just been waiting for his cue.

Which Karolka seemed eager to give him. "Actually, I think Robert can tell you more about the architecture," she said, looking at him encouragingly, and Remus couldn't help thinking she was extremely attentive for her age. A very sociable character.

Robert turned his head in a bad imitation of surprise at being addressed, and said the first words that Remus had ever heard from him apart from several incantations in class. 

"It looks very old," he said, addressing Karolka directly. He spoke quietly and quickly, as if he were afraid of being interrupted again. "But it can't be. It must have been rebuilt, otherwise it wouldn't be so well-preserved, but for the style of the architecture that they imitated, I'd say it's Cistercian, twelfth or thirteenth century."

"That early!" exclaimed Rachel Fitzgerald from Boston. "Chris Columbus' grandpa wasn't even born by then!"

Her remark caused great hilarity among the students, and even Gómez gave a small smile. "Let's go in and ask them for details," he suggested, and the children followed him up to the entrance.

The abbey was just as impressive inside, and the monks were helpful: They patiently explained everything the children wanted to know. Robert's assumption was confirmed, and their guide, a short man wearing a simple black robe and a roguish smile, expressed his utter astonishment at the boy's knowledge, which seemed to please Robert greatly. Olivier's once again timid question what exactly "Cistercian" meant was answered promptly and kindly; the monk explained that it had been an order related to the Benedictine one, which they belonged to, and Karolka added in a low voice that the Benedictines belonged to the Roman Catholics. They were led through the buildings and the church and learned a lot of things in a short time. 

Remus learned, above all, that these children were far more interested in religion than most of their peers. He also learned that he still found it hard to find a proper approach for himself.

"Let nothing, therefore, be put before the Work of God," he heard the man's voice; he was explaining the rules of St. Benedict to the children. Remus stood further away from them, examining a statue of Mary, and frowned.

"You do not look convinced." He turned round. Gómez was standing there, with his arms folded behind his back and his favourite unreadable expression; but the tone of his voice had been almost mocking. 

Remus was a patient man, but some people succeeded in making him very angry. 

"What about you?" he asked, in the same distanced, slightly ironic tone. Gómez, however, only looked at him thoughtfully.

"I have not yet understood what kind of god would create a world like this, if not a cynical, sadistic one." He walked forwards, stopping next to Remus, and tilted his head at the statue. "I envy those who can find refuge with him, but..." He stopped himself and cast a quick glance at Remus, as though he were only now becoming aware whom he was talking to. 

But Remus, for his part, only looked at him thoughtfully. He had found the first similarity between the other man and himself, what a miracle! "I think I have a very clear idea of what you mean."

Gómez arched an eyebrow at him. "Really?" There was the mocking tone again. Yet for the remainder of the day, Remus had the feeling he was being looked upon with more respect.

When the others arrived a few hours later, they had lunch in the abbey's restaurant. Some of the monks joined them and were soon engaged in conversation by interested children, Karolka Wyszinski in front, whose thirst for knowledge did not seem to be stilled yet. Remus sat with students that had been in the other group, and while half-heartedly listening to their excited chatter about butterflies and otters, he watched Gómez sit down with his three proteges and converse with them in low tones and, probably, Spanish. While Jorge and Gabriel had not shown themselves at all interested in the building's outside or inside, they were bombarding Gómez with questions now. All the while, María Aciano sat next to them, listening, and Remus saw her eyes dart to those sitting around the monks every so often. She did not seem uninterested at all. Remus suddenly wondered how much of her choices of activities depended on what her two quasi-brothers did.

"Professor?" His head jerked back to his table, whose other occupants were all looking at him questioningly.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Aimée Martin smiled. "I asked if you 'ave enjoyed your visit to ze abbey." Her voice was very soft and tranquil; her accent, meanwhile, was much stronger than that of the other two French native speakers.

"It was... interesting." He winced. What are you doing, just coming out with your inner struggles in front of six teenagers? "The monks were helpful, and I believe your classmates enjoyed the visit very much."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nikolai Kolnikov exchange a glance with his brother Andrej, and realised there was a reason these two had preferred not to join the abbey group; he was sure they did not care a bit about butterflies or otters. He watched them closely when everyone left the abbey, and noticed that although Andrej sneered at his surroundings, and Nikolai eyed the monks and the students around them with contempt, they were both very eager to get out of the building.

During the bus ride to Plymouth, they kept well away from everyone else, as did the two boys from Colombia and María, and Remus resisted the urge to go to either of them, listening instead to more talk about animals, architecture and scriptures.

~~~

Plymouth was one of the less annoying big cities, he found. It was very green, the people looked friendly enough and, whenever a slight wind came up, it smelt of fish and seaweed.

Constance drove the bus to a large car park close to the pub that was the entrance to Strollers Street. Remus had to admit he, too, would have stared seeing twenty-one children and four adults, dressed in Muggle clothing, enter the pub. All talk inside the pub ceased, and they were being looked up and down. Most of the children's defiant stares back did not exactly help matters.

Charlotte, however, approached the landlord with an earnest smile. "Good afternoon. I was wondering if you could show us the entrance to Strollers Street."

The sound of the alley's name made the wizards in the pub relax visibly, and soon they found themselves on the other side of the building; in the middle of a busy, colourful street that rang with the chatter of several hundred people. Remus watched most of the children coming around the corner halt in mid-step, their eyes bulging out at the sight in front of them.

"It's HUGE!" burst out none other than María Aciano, and Remus wasn't the only one to look at her in surprise. Jorge and Gabriel obviously didn't hear her talk any more than the others did, and even María herself was surprised and blushed furiously. Charlotte, however, smiled and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Isn't it great?" María just nodded mutely.

For the rest of the afternoon they explored the alley, the children gaping at the windows, and soon many of them had become completely absorbed in one shop or another. Books, sweets, brooms, clothes... Remus found, to his surprise, that he was enjoying the visit as well, and spent the good part of an hour in the bookstore, wishing, as he always did, that he could buy everything. Another half hour was spent in Trixie's Trick Shop in search of a birthday present for Sirius, but he was so distracted by Felix Rosentrauch, Leonid Dimitroff and Tinh Shanyong staring at him curiously that he didn't find anything.

"So, what did they ask you?" Charlotte asked him later over a cup of coffee; they had decided it was safe to leave the kids to their own devices, although Gómez was still patrolling the street, looking like a very grumpy watchdog, and Constance was completely absorbed in the wonders of the wizarding world.

"I'm assuming you mean yesterday morning?" Remus enquired, and she smiled. 

"Indeed. Of course, it's your decision whether or not to disclose this information, but I would really prefer to find out from you and not from them. You know, in a few days." She sounded infinitely amused, and Remus sighed.

"All right. They asked about my time at Hogwarts, mostly, and my experiences with... wizards who found out about it."

Her fingers tightened around her cup. "Were you able to give them an optimistic image of the world?"

He smiled tensely. "That would be saying too much. But I was able to surprise them."

Her expression relaxed. "I'm very glad." They sat at the table in silence for a while before Charlotte addressed him again; but before she could even say the first word, a scream carried over from the far end of the street.

A woman was shouting, and Remus was sure he had heard the word 'werewolf'.

They rose as one, abruptly, and hurried down the street, but before they had even arrived, the source of the screams came rushing towards them.

It was Trixie, the joke-shop owner, a stout but elegant little lady in her fifties who had treated Remus and the children ever so kindly and shown them around her shop. Now, her face was contorted in fury as she chased after Olivier Mbomo and Joseph Joplin, who seemed blind with terror.

"Beasts in my shop! ... teach you a lesson! ... out with you werewolves!" She was screaming, and Remus' heart started pounding. He was frozen to the spot. At the periphery of his mind, he noticed Charlotte next to him, staring like him at the sight of the two boys running towards them.

"Impedimenta!" came a familiar voice, and the woman's running slowed down, until she seemed to be running on the spot, her eyes bulging out in exhaustion and rage. Gómez was standing to their left, pointing his wand at her. This time, the expression on his face wasn't unreadable at all.

"Go on, to the bus, all of you," he bellowed, and the boys hurried past Remus, snapping him out of his trance. He quickly got moving, and so did Charlotte; they divided up the shops between them in quiet agreement, under the stare of the passers-by, and within twenty minutes, everyone was back in the bus.

There was a thick silence hanging over them. Then, Constance arrived and slammed the door shut behind her, breaking the tension – and there was a loud sob.

"P-p-professor, I-I-I'm so s-sorry," stammered Joseph, while wiping the tears from his face in a furious, embarrassed movement. "I d-didn't mean to, I..."

"It's okay, Joseph," Charlotte reassured him, sitting down beside him and putting her arm around him. "It's all right, no-one's blaming you."

"B-but I d-didn't want to spoil this d-day, I.... I d-didn't know that wand was actually a silver spoon..."

Remus clenched his teeth, and exchanged a silent look with Constance.

"Joseph, it's not your fault," he addressed the boy, and sat down next to them as well. At once, Joseph fell silent, staring at him.

"B-but if I h-hadn't touched..."

"Like you said, you didn't know. You couldn't know. It was a joke-shop for God's sake." He let out a small laugh, and Joseph smiled weakly. Charlotte gave Remus a thankful look, and Gómez cleared his throat.

"Let's go back to the school."

***


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Ladies and Gentlemen, I proudly present Chapter Six! On this joyful occasion, I would like to distribute a few awards. Cas for most honest beta (hehe); Alkari for most supportive beta; Britzen for grammar-nerd-beta; Zsenya and Mincot share the award for most hard-working beta; GryffindorSeeker for most helpful reader; and special mention goes to LouveLune03 for nagging endlessly and making me actually write the darn thing. :) Finally, a huge thanks to everyone who reviewed!_

Chapter Six 

Something was nibbling on his finger. Remus sat up with a start. The contrast between the world of his dreams and the morning light was so stark that he stared at the wall opposite him in confusion for a while, until reality began to fall back into place. It had been a dream, thank God. He breathed slowly, trying to shake off the night's images. 

Realising that his finger was still being pecked at, he looked down to see a minute owl on his blanket, hopping in apparent impatience. He quickly took the letter it carried, and the owl took off with a loud hoot. 

_Remus-  
I've been thinking of you all week. How are you holding up?  
How are the students? What exactly is going to happen  
tonight?  
Yes, I remember that you never talked about it, but damn it  
Remus, I need to know. Tell me about the arrangements. I  
need to know you're safe, need to picture it at least even if  
I can't be there for you.  
I wish I could be there for you.  
Remember Moony and Padfoot? Of course you do. We'll  
get there again eventually, I know it.  
Write to me NOW.  
Sirius_

Remus thrust the letter aside on his bed, stood up and moved to the window. He gazed over the peaceful-looking garden, glistening strangely in the first rays of sunshine, whose yellow-gold colour bleached out the deeper colours of the flowers. The breeze calmed him down, but his heart was still beating heavily. 

It was tonight, _tonight,_ and he wasn't prepared at all. Had he ever been prepared? No, he supposed, but there had been times when he had approached a full moon with less anxiety. 

He hadn't meant to let anything show, but nonetheless Charlotte's voice had sounded very calming when she had explained the details to him two weeks ago, making it clear that she had picked up on his inner distress. It was ironic, he thought wryly; _he_ was supposed to be the one calming others down: at least that had always been the role he had assumed. He turned away from the window. He hated not being in control. 

The children were spending the night together. That fact had taken a while to sink in. Charlotte had explained that they had formed a pack of some sorts; while having taken these two years to get used to each other, they now didn't attack each other any longer and even calmed each other down. However, any new addition to the pack always disrupted pack relations. And she had given him a very sympathetic look, and he had looked away. 

He had told her he didn't want to spend the night with them. Every part of his body had rebelled against the idea. The possibility that he could hurt someone - Charlotte had assured that would not happen, but he had not been convinced. They had discussed it for hours, days even. She had sworn that it would be better for him the earlier he joined them; but seeing him so very opposed to the idea, she had leant back and left the choice entirely to him. And finally, he had started accepting the idea; after all, the teachers would make sure he wouldn't hurt the children. 

_And that wasn't the only reason, was it?_ Very slowly, while gritting his teeth, Remus admitted to himself that somehow, in some twisted way, he didn't want to give this part of himself up - he didn't want to share this with anyone but... but that was over. 

_"We'll get there again eventually, I know it."_ In the meantime he would just have to adapt to his surroundings, and get rid of that stupid instinct that made him so reluctant to open this door up to anyone else. 

Speaking of doors. There was a knock, and upon his answer, the Matron entered the room, holding a goblet full of a steaming liquid that smelled almost as bad as the Wolfsbane Potion - but he would have recognised that anywhere. This was something different. 

"Good morning," she said briskly and walked into the room without hesitation, putting the goblet and a smaller cup on the table. "Sorry if I woke you up, but this needs to be taken early." 

"You didn't wake me up." Remus realised he was still in his pyjamas and quickly pulled on his dressing-gown. "As a matter of fact, I just got up. What is this?" 

"Pepperup, special recipe," Angela said over her shoulder as she poured some of the red liquid into the cup. "You'll have to tell me whether it agrees with you. Some of the children have had problems with the ingredients, and I've had to make several variations of it ever since." She handed him the cup. "You need to drink this at once." 

Remus nodded and swallowed the bitter-tasting potion in one gulp. "So what does it do?" 

"Helps your muscles relax and gives you a bit of energy," Angela prompted and made an impatient gesture at his raised eyebrows. "Yes, yes, I know that what you need the least is even more energy, but the effect of this only sets in after you've transformed back." 

Well. This was the most neutral comment he had ever got about the night of a full moon. Even Madam Pomfrey, the ever-so-pragmatic Hogwarts Matron, hadn't been able to keep that note of concern out of her voice. Snape, on the other hand, upon providing the Potion once a month, had looked as if he were wishing it would poison him by some lucky chance. 

"Now." Angela was hardly giving him time to reminisce. "I don't know what type of person you are, but we have a few very different characters down there, and I've spent two years studying them. I'm assuming you belong to those who don't give themselves any rest on the day before a full moon." She frowned a little at the smile that confirmed her assumption. 

"Thought so. Well, I'll have you know that I don't allow my patients to do anything that could hurt them, just because they're too proud or too stubborn. You WILL rest. Period. No-one's expecting you to mark homework or prepare your lessons, so just relax and do as little as you can today, all right?" She frowned again and added quietly, "You'll need all of your strength for tonight." 

When Angela had gone, Remus went to sit down on his small balcony, wrapping himself in his cloak in the chilly morning breeze. Breakfast was still over an hour away. 

He would need all of his strength for tonight, she had said. As if he didn't know that already. Why was she treating him like one of the children? He was a bit more experienced than that, after all; even though sometimes he thought he was still eleven years old. For example in completely new situations like these - so perhaps her treatment of him was not so inappropriate. 

He had spent all of the last two weeks trying to avoid the questions that were threatening to enter his mind, or imagining tonight - so instead, the most horrible images had haunted his dreams. He shook his head at himself. Why ever couldn't he manage to handle this subject rationally, as he did everything else? 

He smiled wryly, catching himself imagining Sirius' expression once more. Somehow, the presence of him had always been there, even during those twelve years. But all too often a smiling Sirius in his head had been followed by a mental image of him laughing insanely amidst the ruins of that London street, and he had made every effort never to think of him again. 

Remus sighed and forced himself to pick up quill and parchment, and sat down to compose a reply. He felt a stab of annoyance again, looking at Sirius' letter, but shook his head at once. He was being silly, as usual, turning his fear of the full moon into anger about anyone mentioning it. But he supposed it was getting better... he didn't think that he would ever be able to talk about it easily, but it helped to know that he had a very concerned friend out there. 

_Dear Sirius,  
You are perfectly right, as happens every now and then.  
I don't like talking about it. But I will make an exception  
for an old, very annoying friend, merely because I know  
that he won't shut up until I do so.  
I talked to Charlotte a while ago. The children have been  
transforming together for some time, in a secured space  
outside that is protected by invisible walls. I've had a look  
at them, they're solid. We have a very good Charmer  
from Salem by the name of Teri Longbottom - interesting,  
no? But I can see you frowning at me, telling me I should  
cut my tactics of distraction. Well, all right.  
Apparently, the children have formed a pack. The other  
teachers are able to survey the area during the night, so  
they have been studying their behaviour for a long time;   
they have confirmed that even though (as I mentioned  
in my previous letter) there is no Wolfsbane Potion, the  
children do not attack each other and even succeed in  
calming each other down.  
Of course, you are already guessing it: New members of  
the pack take a bit of time to get used to this... Charlotte  
assures me that nothing will happen to them and that this  
is the best way, but Sirius, I am bloody scared. I've never  
been together with anyone but you three, and you  
remember how long it took for us..._

Remus had been scribbling furiously, without looking up once, almost without thinking. That was clearly visible, he thought rereading the letter, and pursed his lips. He disliked emotional letters, but then... why not say exactly what he thought for once? He flinched, scanning through it again, but added a few words and stuffed the letter into an envelope without further ado. 

_"A bit of female spirit will do you all good,"_ a very amused voice suddenly said in his mind, and Remus snorted. Lily would despair, he knew it, at seeing him so completely unable to just tell his best friend that he was scared. Women always seemed to find it so easy to talk - about anything. 

Having sent off the letter, he got dressed and went down to breakfast. He was early; only half of the children were already there. He flinched at the sight of them - some of them looked dreadful. Olivier Mbomo looked as if he hadn't slept much, and his normally dark skin had a sickly shade of grey to it; Leonid Dimitroff, who always had a snuffly nose, was coughing and sneezing; and Tinh Shanyong, the tiny boy from Vietnam, entered the hall supported by the helping arms of Jorge Guerrera and Gabriel Hernández. 

It felt strange, seeing them so weak. Remus didn't feel any better, and he didn't suppose he looked any better than they did; but long years of practise had helped him act normal, disguise the effects of the full moon on him. How often he had wished to just stay in bed those mornings! James, Sirius and Peter would gladly have brought him everything they could carry from breakfast; but he had dragged himself down every time so as not to raise any suspicion. Madam Pomfrey had shaken her head, and more than one teacher at the staff table had glanced at him frequently, some worried, some hoping for a sign of weakness that would betray him. He had learned to walk straight and tall despite all the weariness and uproar inside. He hadn't even realised how it had become second nature to him. 

The children's glances at him were accordingly incredulous, and envious. He greeted them in a normal voice; some could only nod in response. Charlotte smiled at him, but her smile was rather more strained than normally, and her gaze rested on him for a while. He returned her smile, and knew that his own had looked just as normal as ever. 

Remus was certainly far from possessing very good intuition, but the years had taught him to sense others' feelings quite clearly, especially when they were so close to his own. It was unsettling to see before him the very emotions that he felt, but that he didn't show. He was looking into almost two dozen mirrors: but they showed his very inside, and his inside scared him. 

Yet -if he dared to go that far in his unprofessional analysis- there was something missing here: nobody appeared to be really _frightened_ of what was coming. Uneasy, distressed, tired - yes, but not afraid. There was almost a sense of security here, one that he had not felt since... yes, since the days with Padfoot, Wormtail and Prongs. 

He took in a deep breath, lowering his head. He was all right, most of the time, but sometimes all the sadness just came back, very suddenly, very strongly. The memories were always strongest around the full moon; and normally, there would have been the dread of spending the night alone, without any control, without any security. This time, he wasn't going to be alone, but this was almost worse. 

The day of the full moon always passed by very slowly, but it seemed interminable this time. It was quiet in the school; most children seemed to follow Angela's advice (or order?) of doing as little as possible. Remus had no idea how they did that. After about an hour of walking around the manor and studying the paintings -which, he found, didn't show Muggles after all, but extremely strict-looking and nearly unmoving wizards - he thought he might go crazy if he didn't do something productive. Well, there were still a few assignments to mark. 

Another hour later, he felt much better, sitting by the window and correcting the small essays he had set for the younger ones; he was just trying to decipher Andrej Kolnikov's writing when there was a knock on his door. 

"Come in," he said without looking up, and only realised his mistake when the door opened. 

"You know, I'm amazed at Angela's intuition," said Constance, standing by the door and looking at him with soft reproval. "She always knows what type of person she's dealing with. I suppose it comes with being a doctor." 

Remus looked at her, down at his work, back up at her, and gave a rueful smile. "So you're the supervision committee?" 

Constance leant back against the door and sighed. She always sounded a bit insecure when she spoke, as if she weren't sure that her opinion mattered. "If it were me, I'd let you do whatever you want, but... Angela'd give me hell if I let you work like that. She has a lot of experience with this." 

She frowned at him for a moment. "But so do you, I imagine." Another pause, and then she said, as if coming to a decision, "You know what, just do whatever feels right. You've been handling yourself for years... I'll deal with Angela. She can become a bit overprotective. She treats me like her teenage sister most of the time," she added, grinning awkwardly. 

Remus smiled back. "I think I know what you mean." 

Constance left, and Remus marked a few more essays before putting his work aside. A walk would do him good now, he thought... the weariness in his limbs was getting stronger, but he couldn't lie down. He paced around the room for a while, and eventually decided on a book he had picked up in the library the other night and hadn't got round to reading yet. 

He had meant to walk along the rose-bushes, but his steps took him almost naturally to a field just before the forest. His gaze wandered over the wide space, covered by grass, poppies and daisies, and he tried to imagine for a brief moment what it would be like running across it on four legs - but he shuddered, and pushed the image to the very back of his mind. He had never had so much as the smallest memory of a full moon without the Potion, at least not of those nights he had spent alone. There were distant, vague memories of those full moons with his friends, but they were more feelings, sounds and smells than anything definite. 

He turned and walked back into the garden, looking for a comfortable and dry place to read, and finally decided on the shade under one of the palm-trees (imported from Florida for the sake of Joseph Joplin, charmed into growing in Cornwall climate). Approaching it, he almost collided with Nora Hartfield who had appeared from behind one of the bushes. 

Both of them looked instantly at the book the other one was holding, and Nora gave a sort of half-smile. "_Hippogriffs Hatch_? Bit of light reading for the weekend?" 

The moment the words were out, she looked alarmed at having spoken so sarcastically, and he reassured her quickly by smiling back. "_Letters from Wendelin the Weird to her Lover_? Assignment for History of Magic?" 

Nora blushed, covering the title with her hands. "This one's a bit silly. I like reading letters, though, they give me a better view of who the person was instead of just reading a biography." She cleared her throat, looking even more uncomfortable, and Remus was sure she wondered why she was talking so much. "What about yours, then?" She pointed to his book. "Hippogriffs aren't considered Dark Creatures, are they?" 

The way the word rolled from her tongue gave him a shiver. "No, but I've always found their behaviour an interesting cause of study. Besides, the Headmistress has suggested that I look into something else -" He stopped himself, unsure of whether he should break the news already, as they had really just played with the thought a few evenings before. 

"Can you keep this to yourself for a while?" When she nodded, he continued, "Professor Merlot has suggested that I start a second subject. Care of Magical Creatures has never been taught at this school." 

Nora's eyes lit up. "Oh, that would be great!" She checked herself, and gave her usual half-smile again. "I mean, I'm sure many people would be very interested in that." She frowned, a thought visibly crossing her mind. "But how would we pay for the Magical Creatures? And wouldn't most of them be frightened of us?" 

This girl was definitely more mature than the others - and also much more direct. "We haven't planned the particulars at all yet. As for their reactions, I can say from my own experience that only some react badly to werewolves." _I still have trouble saying that word, don't I?_ "Most of them behave like normal animals: only if _you_ are frightened of them, they will sense it at once." 

Nora nodded. They stood on the path for a moment, and Remus was thinking of walking back into the castle, when she suddenly burst out with: "Is it true about tonight?" 

His heart started pounding very loudly, and he tightened his grip around the book. "What do you mean?" 

She frowned up at him. "That you're spending the night with us. Jun said that Miss Merlot said so at breakfast - I was up in the dormitories helping Madam O'Connor with María." Constance had mentioned that young María Aciano had very low blood pressure and usually fainted at least twice on the day of the full moon. 

"Yes, it is true." Nora nodded, and fell silent again. Remus was battling with himself whether or not to ask - his pride and his reluctance to talk forbade it, his curiosity and above all, his fright told him to. He groaned inwardly at himself. "Nora - can I ask you a few questions about it?" Finally, although it had come out much unsteadier than he would have wished. 

She seemed to have waited for this question, and gestured into the direction of the palm-trees. "We could sit down if you want to..." 

"Good idea." They sat, and Nora looked at him expectantly. He had no idea where to start. And he felt so very sheepish exposing his fears in front of a girl of seventeen... but some things had to be asked. 

"Have you ever remembered anything?" _Oh, good heavens, Remus, could it have been a less vague question for a starter?_

But her look was distant, and he awaited her answer impatiently. "I never did before I came here. But there's something now... I don't exactly _remember_, but there's some feeling the next morning. Some feeling of, well, having been with others I knew and trusted." She frowned. "Sorry, that doesn't make any sense..." 

"It does, actually." She had no idea how much sense it made. It was an exact description of his last years at Hogwarts. The thought relieved him to some extent. 

"Er... do you have any idea what happens during the night... what you do?" 

Nora shrugged. "Well, the teachers have told us what they can see. They supervise us, you know... we have wood and plants and other things to play with, and it seems we also play with each other." 

Remus contemplated her tone. She was so... detached, as if she were talking about something she had been reading about. A thought suddenly struck him, and he bent forward. "Is it a real... pack? Are there Alphas?" 

She looked embarrassed, suddenly, and he wondered whether he had crossed the line. He himself felt more than uneasy talking about it. But - 

"There is one Alpha," she said, and looked up at him, biting her lip. "It's me, apparently." 

He raised his eyebrows. "I see." And, with a slight smile, he added, "That fits." 

Nora blushed again, this time more strongly. 

~~~ 

Reluctantly, Remus turned to the last page of _Hippogriffs Hatch_. Why couldn't the book have been longer than four hundred and thirteen pages? Not that it was very well written -in fact, it was quite superficial and very badly researched- but he didn't care much about that right now. The end of the book meant the end of his excuse to stay outside. 

He sighed, put down the book and looked up into the sky. The sun would be setting in about two hours, he estimated - no, he _knew_ -, and at the thought, all his feelings of dread and anxiety came back full force. He supposed he should go inside, but, well, another few minutes couldn't hurt. 

Nora was the Alpha wolf. Good _heavens_, he didn't even want to think about the implications of it. What would he behave like, when introduced to the pack as a newcomer? He was much older than them, after all... he only had a few vague ideas about lupine behaviour in general (he had never cared to do much research about it), but there was probably no doubt that he _would_ challenge the Alpha sooner or later, and then what if he hurt her? 

And what if... 

Remus stared at his book, then stood up abruptly. He had to get inside at once and tell Charlotte that he was transforming alone. There was no way he would run the danger of THAT happening. 

He had only been at the school for two weeks, so he supposed he couldn't really judge, but the manor did seem quieter than usual. He heard no loud footsteps, no shouting and no laughter; but he was almost glad about it, as the contrary would probably have unsettled him. 

Charlotte was not in the teachers' common room, nor was his knock at her door answered. He sighed, knowing he would have to look for her in the Common Room. For the umpteenth time that day, he shook his head at himself and descended the stairs to the second storey. It seemed part of their routine to sit together during the afternoon, and Charlotte had recommended to join them as early as possible that day. But he had tried to shirk around it... 

Stopping in front of the door to the Common Room and listening, he could hear quiet talk, the rustling of papers, a bit of music - and there, had that been a blast from Exploding Snap? 

Gathering all his courage, he opened the door. They were all there, sitting together in large groups, some of them playing cards, some of them lying down on the sofas. All of them fell silent when he entered the room. 

"Good afternoon," he said with as much ease as he could muster, and spotted Charlotte at that moment. She was surrounded by a whole crowd of children. Tinh Shanyong was even half leaning against her, and on her other side sat Aimée Martin, whose hair she was doing up into braids. 

The Headmistress was obviously pleased to see him, he noted, and the other children looked at him eagerly as well, some of them returning his greeting. 

"Do you want to sit down, Professor?" Felix Rosenstrauch offered, and gestured to a chair beside him. His voice sounded slightly less energetic than in the morning, but he hadn't lost his smile. 

Remus smiled back, and took the offered seat, still feeling all eyes on him. _Oh, dear. Suppose this is not the right moment to ask Charlotte for a private conversation._

"I've been outside reading," he said, feeling that he had to justify his long absence. 

"Yes, Nora told us that." Felix's German accent was more pronounced than ever, and his grammar, as was the case with many of the foreign students, was uneven. "She said you prepare for a new subject...?" He smirked, and Charlotte gave a small laugh. 

"You can see that nothing stays a secret for long in here, Professor Lupin!" she said, and some of the children laughed, while also eagerly studying his reaction. He continued smiling his even smile. 

"Yes, I see. I will try and hold my tongue, then, whenever I catch anything indecent." 

There was louder laughter, and some of the looks he caught were full of surprise. Well, he was used to it. Most people didn't expect a sense of humour from him. 

"Will you do Care of Magical Creatures then, Professor?" asked Karolka Wyszinski, who was sitting close to Charlotte with her usual group of girls. Karolka usually took the initiative when anything was begging to be asked, and a few of the children sent thankful glances into her direction. 

"I don't know yet," he replied. "I for my part would like doing it very much - I'm sure I can still learn a lot." He cast a short glance at Charlotte. "It depends on... other things." 

"Money, you mean." Jorge Guerrera's voice sounded more bitter and aggressive than ever. "It's not very probable that they will give us even more money now, they don't even think we deserve the money we get..." 

"Jorge," Gabriel Hernández and Gómez said at the same time, and Jorge quickly replied something in Spanish, in an equally aggressive tone. Every person in the room seemed to know exactly what he had been talking about, though, and behind Gómez' back, María Aciano nodded. Remus wondered whether he had ever met an eleven year old girl who was so experienced in financial matters. 

He would have to inquire about the exact situation later - all he had heard until now were allusions and vague comments. Not that he had hoped for anything before he had come here; after his experiences with the Werewolf Registry, he was actually surprised how much support the school did seem to obtain. 

They talked about Magical Creatures and various other subjects for a while; the conversation was so pleasant that although his increasing exhaustion and uneasiness made it impossible to forget what was coming, the stress of it was at least eased - and that was already a huge achievement. When he finally glanced out of the window, he realised that moonrise must be less than an hour away. Gómez had followed his glance and nodded at him. 

"We had better get going," he said, and his remark was followed by a general murmur of agreement. Not happy or willing agreement, but no-one complained. They stood up, helped those who were having troubles keeping their balance, and slowly walked out of the Common Room and downstairs. Charlotte was supporting Tinh Shanyong, and Remus had almost given up all hope of talking to her when Felix Rosenstrauch and Leonid Dimitroff came to his rescue and helped Tinh down the stairs. The other teachers and Angela followed, leaving Charlotte and Remus alone. 

She looked round the room, as if to see whether anyone had been forgotten, and finally turned to him, with an earnest expression on her face. "You'll be all right. It _will_ take a while before you get used to each other, no point denying that, but if anything happens we intervene." 

He frowned. "How so?" 

"Another stroke of genius from Teri's side - a combination of _Impedimenta, Stupefy_ and various other spells which we can use from up here to restrain each of them. The strongest version of a Stunning Curse, for example, is just enough to make a werewolf a bit dizzy." 

"I see." Remus bit his lip, then suddenly wondered when he had done that the last time. As a teenage boy, probably... "Have you ever had to intervene because of... er... other things as well?" 

She cocked an eyebrow. "Other things?" 

_Well, yes, obviously you need to make yourself clearer._ "I talked to Nora earlier, as you know, and she told me that she's the Alpha wolf in the pack." How entirely weird - two weeks ago he would still have danced around the words, but now avoiding them at all costs seemed rather pointless. "Well, I'm not an expert concerning the behaviour of wolves, but..." _Oh goodness, get it over and done with!_

"Well, I've been wondering whether one of the male students ever aspired to the position of an Alpha wolf. Next to Nora." _There. If she doesn't understand that, I'll have a problem..._

Fortunately, Charlotte seemed to understand at once what he meant. Her tone was very slightly amused when she said, "You're asking about the sexual behaviour of the wolves?" 

Remus could only nod. 

"Well, we don't allow that to happen. The older students can indulge in whatever activities they feel are necessary, as long as they're successful in hiding them from us... but not during the full moon." She looked at him shrewdly. "You've been worrying you would get into an embarrassing situation with Nora?" 

"It is entirely possible." He blushed. He hated blushing. 

"I agree - but don't worry, we'll take care of it." 

Well - that meant he had no excuse not to go down now. They started walking slowly downstairs. "Is everyone already going outside?" 

"Oh, no. Everyone's transforming separately in small rooms in the cellar, we think that's a better idea psychologically; while these children share everything, it might still be better to keep certain things to themselves. Their naked bodies are among these things." 

Remus smiled, in a mixture of amusement and relief. He could not believe he hadn't thought as far as this until now. "Yes, that's a good idea. How do they... we... get back into those rooms?" 

"Well, there's an interesting question," she said. "At the beginning, we used to lead them each back to their rooms separately with a modified form of _Accio_. But as it is, almost all of them now go back on their own. It's become routine." 

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I see. You will have to use that charm on me, though." 

She nodded. "Yes, Teri's prepared." 

It seemed that everything was. Charlotte showed him the way down to his room; it was in a long row of rooms that were all connected to one large corridor - which, as Charlotte had explained, led to an open door at the end, through which they would exit and be led directly to the field. 

The room had obviously been a dungeon once - unsettling thought that there were so many of them under this pleasant manor house - but every effort had been taken to make it at least clean and dry. It was empty bar one small wardrobe that seemed very stable. He undressed quickly and locked his clothes in it, feeling that it was high time. 

The first thing he always felt was a tickling sensation all over his body, which slowly became stronger. It wasn't exactly painful, but uncomfortable, especially since it announced the next steps: every muscle in his body contracting - his skin tensing until it felt as though it would tear - his hearing becoming over-sensitive - 

He stopped pacing around the room -a habit he had acquired long ago, which somehow made the pain more bearable until it was no longer possible to stand up- and stepped closer to the door. Even though he had known they were there, the sounds he could hear still came as a surprise to him. Soft moaning could be heard to his left and right, and something in him which had nothing to do with the transformation contracted. 

To hear someone else experiencing exactly the same things... to feel other people so close to him... it was reassuring and frightening at the same time. 

His sense of smell was increasing along with his hearing, and as he finally fell down on all fours, and a small groan escaped him, he opened up to the unusual, yet so familar smell all around him. It was incredibly intense, and evoked instinctive reactions that he hadn't felt for a long time. The aggression that was building up inside him was increased by it, and he panicked at the realisation, but there was also a sense of... natural belonging. _That was what it felt like_, was his last coherent thought. 

~~~ 

It was unusually warm when he woke up. Hot panic shot through him, panic that he would find himself outside, that everything had gone wrong. But there was hard stone under him, he realised coming more to his senses, and he finally dared open his eyes. He was back in the room, lying on the floor. He was overwhelmed with relief, and _They must have kept the rooms warm during the night_, was his first, rather irrelevant thought. 

He heaved himself upwards. There was a throbbing pain in his arm, and he winced, looking down at an open wound. His head was also hammering painfully, scratches covered his body, and a muscle in his leg seemed torn - but apart from the usual exhaustion, that was about the only damage he could find. Compared to previous nights, this was nothing. 

He limped to the wardrobe and got dressed as quickly as he could, his heart suddenly pounding stronger than his head. If he was relatively unharmed, did that mean he had been the winner in some fight? Then who had lost? He ran more than walked out of the room, anticipating the worst, and bumped into Nora, who had been in the room opposite his. 

She looked as dreadful as he felt, and she too was limping. Remus gritted his teeth, looking at her anxiously, but she smiled at him weakly. 

"Well, at least I gave you hell, too," she muttered, and he stared at her. 

"Do you remember anything? Is anyone else hurt?" 

She shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "I don't remember, but I think I would know if anyone was badly hurt." 

A door to their right opened and Angela emerged, María Aciano leaning against her. Within seconds, other doors opened and students stumbled out, and the other teachers came hurrying downstairs. Charlotte approached Remus and Nora, who were both still leaning against the wall. 

"Come on, we'd better get the two of you upstairs." 

"Charlotte," his voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "Is anyone else hurt? What happened?" He wanted to ask more questions, but his voice seemed to fail him, and Charlotte silenced him with a wave of her hand. 

"Don't worry, everyone's fine. Come on." 

They dragged themselves upstairs and into the hospital wing, where half of the beds were already occupied. Remus' heart sank at the sight of Olivier Mbomo, who had a nasty gash across his cheek and seemed to have a broken arm. However, the boy's eyes lit up at the sight of Nora, and he seemed very relieved. 

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice as hoarse as Remus'. Nora nodded, and Olivier sank back into his pillow. 

The rest of the children had soon arrived in the hospital wing, and the other teachers were hurrying back and forth between the beds. Angela seemed to have taught them basic healing and cleaning spells, which a rational voice inside of Remus immediately judged as very sensible; but his irrational anxiety soon became stronger again. 

"What happened?" he repeated in a low voice, as Charlotte came to his bed. "Why is nearly everyone hurt? Did I...?" 

She shook her head, and he realised for the first time how exhausted she looked. She probably hadn't slept all night. "If you absolutely need to know, you got into a bit of a fight with Nora, and Olivier came to defend her." She grinned suddenly and winked, and Remus shot a quick glance at Olivier's bed. The boy seemed to have overheard everything, and the faintest tinge of red was now mingling with the ashen grey colour of his face. Nora looked impassive. 

"As for the others," Charlotte continued, and started cleaning the wound on his arm, "those scratches and small wounds are normal. As I'm sure you know, a wolf's definition of 'playing' is a bit more violent than a human's." 

When Charlotte had moved on to Jorge Guerrera's bed next to his, he looked around, taking everything in: The children's looks, the teachers' concerned, yet silent and efficient care for them, and the children's gazes at him. 

From a far corner of the room, Rachel Fitzgerald and Anne-Laure Dauphin smiled at him weakly, and he suddenly realised how much he had been expecting them to look frightened, or reproachful. But they had been through all of this themselves, and they _knew_ what he felt. They were like him. He was so little used to this that the realisation, trivial in itself, struck him with the force of an _Expelliarmus._

Remus finally sank back into his pillows, the last tension leaving him. He felt guilty for having hurt Nora and Olivier, although he knew it was irrational; but it could have been so much worse. 

They moved upstairs to the Common Room later, and the day consisted of nothing but sleeping, eating and quiet talk. Remus had more than one student asking him how he felt, and strange though it was to him, it was also reassuring and... pleasant. Even though it might just be because they were alike, he felt that everyone genuinely cared about everyone else - and that that, since the previous night, included him. 

Almost as though it had been a dream, vague memories of the night surfaced later during the day - or rather than memories, there was a sense that he had been able to run free, and that he had been with companions. When he returned to his room that evening and found a letter on his bed, he dropped on the cushions with a weary smile. Picking up the letter, he stared at it for a long time before opening it, the memories of the night before mingling with memories from the past. 

*** 


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: I have good and bad news. Good news first: The new chapter is here! :D Bad news: I won't be able to write anything for a while, as I'm moving to France for half a year. I will be connected to the Internet there, but am actually supposed to speak French, so we'll see - if Remus haunts me at nights, I suppose there's no helping it... This is now, as expected, an AU, or (a term which I prefer), a post GoF fic. The facts just don't work anymore, but I hope that won't discourage you from reading it. As usual, great thank-you's go to Alkari, Cas and Zsenya for very good and constructive beta-reading. Thank you also to everyone who reviewed. Now I'll stop babbling, and let you have your fun!_

**Chapter Seven**

Charlotte had been subdued for a while. She didn't make as many jokes as usual, she was very nervous, and she stared anxiously at every owl that brought a letter. Remus hadn't dared to ask, and no-one else seemed to notice the state she was in. Or did they? By some looks, he could have sworn they did notice, but just didn't talk about it. 

He had already had his fair share of surprises during his time at the school, so while apprehensive, he was still eager to find out what was bothering her. But he kept quiet, in case it was a personal matter that he had no intention of prying into. And, naturally, he wasn't too keen on another disruption of the now peaceful life at school. 

He had finally settled into something of a routine. Knowing his schedule and the students' names by heart was always an important step in that direction. He had classes every day except Tuesday, which was the day he used for studying, or rather trying to study, in the library. Often enough, he was drawn outside, as it was still relatively warm for October. And once he had practically been forced to participate in a Flying lesson, which seemed to have motivated the children a great deal more than Teri's snapped commands. 

He hadn't been able to get to the weekly meetings of the Order at Hogwarts at all. Not that he was skipping them: there simply hadn't been time. The weekends had been full, although he had no idea where the time had gone so quickly. There was always homework to help with, a story to tell, some new, original game to participate in... and in between, he tried to mark homework, which he usually didn't manage until the late evening. He regretted not being able to go to Hogwarts on Sundays, but Dumbledore had more or less ordered him to stay away until he had settled in, and Remus was glad of it. 

He profoundly enjoyed teaching these children. They were, for the most part, so eager to learn and so interested in everything, it still took him by surprise. He especially liked Monday and Thursday afternoons, when he was one of the teachers to supervise the homework and study hours. It was nice to see how social the children were, helping each other out and exchanging notes. Often enough, they got into lively discussions about some subject or another; their interests sometimes seemed to have no borders at all. 

One Thursday at the end of October saw slightly less enthusiastic students who would have preferred walking in the light autumn breeze outside, but who were instead facing the seemingly impossible task of learning nineteen incantations and their characteristics by heart. Remus had been proceeding rather quickly, as they had so much to catch up on. He was focussing on Defensive Charms at first; so the incantations they learned in his class added to the immense number of spells they were presently repeating with Teri. 

The children had been poring over their notes for a while when Leonid Dimitroff broke the silence with a loud, annoyed sound, slamming his fist on the table at the same time. 

"This is so frustrating!" he grumbled. "I have absolute no talent for foreign language, I must speak English already, and now all this stupid Latin rubbish!" 

Many children giggled, and Leonid seemed to find it very amusing himself. Teri, however, raised a meaningful eyebrow. 

"Mr Dimitroff, this 'stupid Latin rubbish', as you call it, is the basis for almost all incantations, and might I mention, for a great part of Russian vocabulary as well. I'm afraid you _will_ have to learn them, one way or another." 

Leonid sighed heavily. Felix Rosenstrauch, his best friend, poked him. "He knows that, Professor, he was just letting out his frustration. I find it difficult, too." 

Murmured agreements and mutilated incantations followed to demonstrate their ignorance. Teri heaved a sigh. On the other side of the room, Remus saw Karolka Wyszinski leaning over to see something María Aciano was showing to those around her. Suddenly, she laughed out loud. 

"Oh, María, you have to read this to everyone!" she encouraged the younger girl, who was blushing as usual. More encouragement followed, and María finally consented. 

"It is not very good," she said in a voice that was as tiny as her. "But I always do this when I can't remember something." She cleared her throat. 

_"When bad men come to harm us Our teachers are not shy They use_ Expelliarmus _And off the wands will fly!"_

"HA!" Leonid Dimitroff shouted, as everyone was bursting into laughter. "That's great! I will do that too! Say it again!" 

María recited it again, her voice becoming more confident by the minute, and Leonid copied the poem down while muttering it to himself. Felix Rosenstrauch watched him for a short while, and slowly, a grin spread across his face. Remus knew that grin. It usually meant that it was time for - 

"A GAME!" As Felix jumped up from his seat, Teri sank lower into hers, shaking her head quietly. Remus knew that she wasn't fond of games at all, and he was quite sure that she had had many discussions with Charlotte about them. He was equally sure how those discussions always turned out. 

"Everyone makes a poem with an incantation," Felix was saying. "I'll start. _If a door is closed, much to your horror, better use_ Alohomora_!"_

"Oh come on, you prepared that in advance!" several children complained, clearly envious. 

Felix swore that he hadn't. "Just now, when Leonid was writing. Next!" 

Everyone sank back into their chairs in contemplation. Finally, Olivier Mbomo stood up and declared in a deep, booming voice, with more confidence than Remus had ever seen him display: 

_"The first part is_ Wingardium _You swish and flick quite hard-ium. Then comes_ Leviosa _I'll never forget that, no sir!"_

They hooted with laughter; Tinh Shanyong had actually fallen from his chair, and a high-pitched giggle was coming from under his table. 

"Olivier, that was _priceless_!" exclaimed Jun Li, who seemed to favour a twisted sort of humour. Olivier sat down contentedly, but not before shooting Nora a glance. She was giving him a rare smile, and Remus could almost see the boy's chest swell with pride. 

"I've got one!" said Rachel Fitzgerald, standing up. Remus realised once more that she was trying very much to be like Karolka Wyszinski, whom all the girls seemed to admire. She was calm, gentle, and confident; Rachel was more the fidgety type of girl, but she was clearly trying to become more like her friend "Kasia". 

_"Dark the room was So I said_ Lumos. _Then I said_ Nox -" 

"And everything went dark, including my socks!" interrupted Felix, sending everyone into fits of laughter again. Even Rachel, who looked unhappy at having been interrupted, was chuckling at the same time. 

The poems went on, and Remus noticed that even Teri seemed to find enjoyment in the creativity of the students. He did not doubt for a moment that this would help them learn the incantations. 

After a while of rhyming, the energy seemed to go out. There were still quite a few incantations left, many of the children (especially the boys) having flat-out refused to do so much as come up with a single rhyme. Naturally, Remus and Teri didn't have to wait long for the inevitable consequence. 

"Professors, come on! Help us out!" called an ever-enthusiastic Felix Rosenstrauch. Teri firmly shook her head. The gazes rested on Remus. Fortunately, there had been time for him to write as well as laugh. 

He straightened slightly in his seat and cleared his throat. 

_"Now, witch and wizard need protection, Since hexes - well, you know how THEY go. A useful Charm for Hex-Deflection? It is, of course, the old -" _

"Protego!" chimed in the children, and even Teri laughed. 

It was right at that moment that Charlotte entered, a letter in her hand and a closed expression on her face. The children fell abruptly silent. She said nothing for a second, but attempted a weak smile. Teri cleared her throat. "It's arrived, then?" 

She nodded, and Remus could almost sense a shiver running through the room. So he had been right: they knew exactly what this was about. It seemed to be some regular event that they had all been hoping wouldn't take place. 

"Tomorrow?" Teri continued, and Charlotte nodded again. She sat down in a sofa next to the fire and glanced around the room. 

"Yes, tomorrow at nine. It's the annual inspection from the Ministry," she explained, looking at Remus. "They check whether the school complies with the safety procedures, and... er... other things." She looked very unhappy. "And there's something new... They're bringing people from the _Daily Prophet_ this time." 

"What! The press!" Jun Li exclaimed, looking horrified. 

"Yes. The press." Charlotte shook her head. " I really don't want to worry you all even more, but I've had some of my worst experiences with the press. The _Daily Prophet_ has got some good reporters, but most of them are just..." 

"Biased, old-fashioned bastards?" Jorge Guerrera snarled and got one of his usual _"Jorge!"_s in response, which in turn he replied to with a flow of very aggressive-sounding Spanish. 

"Have you had experiences with the press, Professor?" Rachel Fitzgerald asked Remus, cutting Jorge short. It was obvious she wasn't too fond of the boy with the grumpy face. 

"Yes, I have," Remus responded with a sigh. "You remember how I told you that I was a professor at Hogwarts two years ago?" 

"Of course!" exclaimed Rachel at the same time as Felix Rosenstrauch and Leonid Dimitroff, who grinned at each other. "But you haven't told us why you stopped teaching there," Felix added. 

"There was an unfortunate... incident ... and one of my colleagues decided that I was too great a danger to the school, so he thought it was appropriate to reveal to everyone what I was." 

"_Schwein!_" shouted Felix, and his friend Leonid snorted - his lack of talent for foreign languages hadn't prevented him from learning a few select German words. Everyone else was looking glum, especially Charlotte, who still didn't seem to be over her disappointment in learning about Severus Snape's actual character. 

"After this spectacular outing," Remus continued, unable to keep the ironic tone out of his voice, "I made the front page. And got quite a few letters from indignant readers." He shuddered involuntarily, remembering the phrasings of some of those letters. Although it wasn't nearly as painful thinking about it now as it had been, when events had been fresh and guilt for allowing them in the first place had gnawed at him. 

"I remember that," said Teri Longbottom, and all eyes were upon her: She hardly ever talked about things outside of the school routine; and she was only there two days a week, so the children were naturally interested in anything out of the ordinary that she might have to say. 

Teri looked at Remus. "Wasn't there a letter from one of the students you taught that defended you?" 

Remus blinked. Of course, he'd forgotten all about that. As he didn't see Teri very often either, he hadn't found a chance to ask yet; and he wasn't one to inquire into personal matters anyway. But it seemed quite clear that Teri knew exactly which student had written this letter. 

"Yes. A student from third year, a very quiet boy, wrote to the _Daily Prophet_..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say. How much of the letter did he want to relate? Did he want to go ahead and proclaim that some children in this country thought him the best teacher they had ever had? The thought of it still made him blush. 

But they were waiting for him to continue; and he realised that they could always do with a positive lookout, however small. "He didn't seem to share the general opinion about werewolves, but judged me from my abilities as a teacher instead." 

"And how did people react?" Gabriel Hernández, the more optimistic one of the two boys from Colombia, asked eagerly. 

"Oh, they made sure to establish that he was quite out of his mind," Remus remarked wryly, thinking of the multitude of letters that had followed Neville's, brandishing him as a troubled kid who would soon join his parents in St Mungo's. He looked down at his hands to hide the grimace that had stolen across his face; upon looking up again, he saw that Teri was studying him intently, probably with very similar thoughts. 

Charlotte sighed. "Well, this is sure to cause an uproar as well - the public hasn't known about the school until now. I guess what I'm saying is..." A shiver ran visibly through her. "Prepare for the worst." 

A prophetic piece of advice, as they all realised very soon. 

~~~ 

He had never thought the tension could mount again to the level it had reached on the day of that first full moon. It was perhaps not as bad, yet it was still almost unbearable. Charlotte had requested -and he had agreed- to hold classes as usual, but in his class on the morning of the inspection, not a single student was listening. He, too, was only partly paying attention to what he was saying; his other half was listening to every sound outside the room. 

This time, he had a clear idea of what to expect, as he had dealt with people from Werewolf Support Services before, and they were all the same. No sympathetic outsider, no pioneer who fought against the strict, established structures in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures would ever be employed here - such was the hard truth that Remus had come to learn after long years of illusion. 

A sudden noise outside made the class jump. The door to the Transfiguration Classroom, which was connected to theirs, had been opened, and there were now voices behind their door. Loud, impatient voices - and lots of them. Remus saw Karolka mouthing 'so many!' to Rachel as they all listened intently. There was a man with a deep, grumbling voice that sounded familiar, who seemed to lead the inspection and from whom Remus could make out the words "get it done with as quickly as possible." 

Remus exchanged a quick look with Nora, and was sure they were both thinking the same thing: it was indeed best for all parties involved if this were over soon. 

The door burst open, and half a dozen people entered - Charlotte, followed by a delegation of five. _The larger the number, the more impressive,_ Remus thought automatically, _and the safer._ Not once in his interactions with the Ministry had he ever been alone with one person, as if he were a constant danger to every other living being. 

"Well, carry on," said the man in front, his tone mirroring the expression of contempt on his face. Only then did Remus realise that he knew the man - although he couldn't believe that he was still doing this job. How much he hated it and those it forced him to deal with had already been obvious to the young, scared boy having been brought to him over thirty years ago by his parents. They had been told in no uncertain terms by Mr. Foddersworth that were the decision his, he would "relieve the boy and the world of this danger", and that the only life their son could hope for was one in complete isolation. 

_Carry on,_ Remus reminded himself. Not letting himself be intimidated by a large number of people staring at him hatefully was something he had taken years to learn. 

"Well, as I was saying about the Averting Spell," he took up his own thread, surprised himself that he hadn't lost it, and relieved to hear his own voice sound quite normal. Still only half listening to what he was saying, he dimly registered the delegation taking notes and photos. The photographer and the serious-looking woman next to her had to be from the _Daily Prophet_, and Remus wondered for a second where Rita Skeeter was - would she have let such an opportunity pass? 

He had barely finished his explanation of _Avertatur_ when Foddersworth interrupted him, with complete disregard for any politeness. _He hasn't lost the uptight, extremely strict look or the slick hair either_, Remus thought. 

"That's enough for now." _As if he were the director in some play._ Foddersworth cleared his throat, looking at Remus over the rim of his tiny glasses. "So, Lupin - teaching your own kind now, are you?" 

Oh yes, it was a good thing he had been prepared for the man's brutally direct manner. There was no way to reply, so he just nodded. 

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," the man continued, speaking as if he were reading from a list of subjects. "What's the idea behind it, then? Arming _them_" - a contemptuous wave of his hand in the direction of the children - "against the beast inside? Are you teaching them a few suicidal techniques, maybe?" Foddersworth looked visibly amused. 

Remus raised his eyebrows, the only outward reaction he allowed himself, while there were some audible gasps from the class. Charlotte, standing next to Foddersworth, was looking furious, and Remus realised he had to say something before _she_ did. 

"Mr Foddersworth," he replied calmly, "I am sure you know perfectly well that Defence Against the Dark Arts involves many other subjects besides werewolves." Foddersworth looked mildly surprised at having been recognised - he did not seem to remember Remus from his days as a child. Charlotte looked relieved. 

"Yes, well. Whatever." The inspection supervisor was looking more and more disgusted with being here, and eager to get out of the school. "You will surely _understand_," he said, and Remus was surprised to note that the man was capable of irony, "that we at the Ministry are a bit _worried_ about a small army of werewolves learning about dark arts techniques." 

"He isn't teaching them anything of the sort," Charlotte said hotly, "that's why the subject begins with the word 'defence', you know." 

Foddersworth glared at Charlotte with unconcealed dislike and seemed about to retort something even nastier, when the tall man behind them who had so far done nothing but stare at the children with narrowed eyes muttered, "Maybe we should test a few spells on them to see if they react by shooting dark curses at us." 

He seemed just as amused as Foddersworth had earlier. Charlotte's hands were now curled into fists at the sides of her body. Remus intervened quickly, careful to keep his tone neutral. 

"It is quite as the Headmistress is saying. I will be glad to show you my list for the year, of course, to show you that it is carefully structured to cover only the basic defensive spells and techniques." 

Foddersworth stared at him for a moment, then nodded curtly, while the other members of the delegation muttered among themselves. The reporter and her photographer seemed to decide to focus on him now instead of the children, which didn't exactly make Remus feel more at ease. 

"Fine, Lupin. Show me that list - I understand you taught _human_ children before, maybe they gave you a bit of a glimpse into normal life and teaching." 

It was incomprehensible to Remus how someone could say something like that to _anyone_, and the word 'human' came like a slap into his face, but he kept up his neutral expression, not even allowing himself to slip when he went to his quarters to get the list he had drawn up before the start of term. 

When he came back, the reporter was busy interviewing very reluctant children, the photographer's camera was constantly flashing -Remus was not at all surprised to see that she photographed everyone from a lower angle, which would make them look much larger and more intimidating than they were-, and Charlotte was standing in a corner with the three Ministry officials, arguing with them in low tones. She was probably discussing finances - at any rate, she was still looking very angry. 

The journalist was a young, quite friendly-looking woman, if a bit stand-offish. She gave him the impression of a person who took her work very seriously - and if that meant reporting in the most objective manner, Remus had absolutely nothing against it. 

"Which of you stay here all year, then?" she was presently asking. Six of ten students raised their hands, and the journalist raised her eyebrows and took notes. "What about your parents?" It wasn't as if she sounded very concerned, Remus caught himself thinking, but he was too pessimistic anyway, and at least her tone didn't sound contemptuous, or - worse - patronising. 

Nobody seemed to want to start relating their family history, though, which Remus fully understood. But it made him realise how curious he was for any background information he might learn, so that although he was standing next to Foddersworth, who was skimming through his list, his full attention was focussed on the children and the woman. 

"Suffice it to say," Jun Li broke into the silence, "that our dear parents seemed to think it would be easier for everyone involved if they left us to our own devices." Her voice was quiet, but harsh. The other children looked relieved that she had begun to speak, and they threw her quietly thankful looks. 

"Some of you weren't brought to the Ministry directly after the bite, then?" The _Daily Prophet_ reporter inquired, and Jorge Guerrera answered with a loud snort. 

"Some of us come from countries where the government is in ashes and the people fight on the street. Some of us never even knew our parents." Remus was disconcerted to see a sudden, violent emotion shake Jorge. The boy seemed on the verge of tears. His friend Gabriel laid a hand on his arm and talked quietly to him in Spanish. Even Rachel, who regularly snapped at Jorge, was biting her lower lip and looking over at him. 

"All in all, we can be grateful that this school exists." Olivier Mbomo was speaking quietly, but his deep voice usually carried through the whole room, and everyone fell silent. Charlotte, having been in conversation with the other man from the Ministry, was looking at Olivier appraisingly. 

"In Morocco," Olivier continued, "I have not met a single man or woman who would treat me..." His voice faltered. 

"Like the human being that you are," Charlotte said. Her head was raised, and Remus saw that in spite of the inspectors' presence, she was feeling immensely proud. 

The reporter turned to Charlotte, and Remus could see the children relax as the woman's attention was drawn away from them. 

"Would you tell me how you founded the school, Miss Merlot?" she asked, looking at Charlotte over her spectacles, her attitude nothing but an extremely strict one, and once again Remus felt an irrational hope that this woman was different and would be able to report neutrally. 

"Well, I had just completed my education at Beauxbatons," Charlotte began, "and I had no intention of living in one of the castles my parents had long dreamt up for me." At this point she stopped, and Remus could almost read her thoughts: _Great, Charlotte, now you're encouraging the kids to rebel against authorities!_ She added, a bit hastily, "They were desk jobs, you know, and not at all in the fields that interested me. 

"So I left my home town - it was not a very painful goodbye - and went to America, to see a bit of the world, and to find a profession that I truly wanted to spend the rest of my life in. I spent about a year in a Muggle orphanage. Then I met Pablo Gómez, who now teaches Transfiguration. 

"He is from Colombia, which is a rather chaotic place at the moment, as I'm sure you know." She gave Jorge and Gabriel a quick glance that looked almost apologetic, but Remus was sure they were not very patriotic. 

"As Jorge said, their wizarding government is almost non-existant, the few members that are left are completely corrupt and cruel. There are no helpful institutions like our Werewolf Support Services." A small, sarcastic smile played around Charlotte's lips as she glanced at Remus. 

"So werewolves and other Dark Creatures are persecuted and killed?" Foddersworth inquired, with such an indifferent air about him that Remus could have hit him. Charlotte seemed on the verge of doing so as well. 

"No, they are left to live on the streets," she retorted, her tone contemptuous as she stared at him. "Pablo Gómez had found two boys," she motioned to Jorge and Gabriel, "as well as a girl from Chile who was not much better off, and he wanted to find a place for them to live and be educated. He saw more in them than just werewolves." 

Jorge and Gabriel looked at each other. Remus could tell they were more than grateful for what Gómez had done for them. 

"I went back to France and searched for other werewolf children, and was surprised to find three of them - one from Morocco - so quickly: I had never known they were there." Charlotte's lips tightened. Was she actually reproaching herself for not looking for them earlier? 

"So, to cut a long story short," she said, "Pablo and I brought our respective protégés to England, where we hoped for an opportunity to form a school for them..." She gave Foddersworth a significant look. "An opportunity which did present itself, after another year of waiting, convincing and begging." 

Foddersworth just stared back at her, seemingly unimpressed by her reproachful tone. "Why didn't you try your luck in America or France?" 

Charlotte gave a hollow laugh, and her tone sounded more aggressive than ever when she murmured, "You would have liked that, wouldn't you? Well, I'm sorry to inform you that the English Ministry is by far the best organised, and the best funded institution of all. The Americans are having problems keeping their large country under control, and the French - well, the French don't care much for anything outside of Paris, and they have financial problems as well. Besides, I wanted my children to grow up in an English-speaking country." 

Remus had to smile a little at her unconscious lapse - "my children," she had said. 

~~~ 

They had all been eagerly anticipating the next day, which would bring the _Daily Prophet_ article. There was much speculation about how the article would turn out - Karolka and Rachel maintained stubbornly that the journalist had been quite nice, and many of the children agreed; Gómez however was just shaking his head, and Remus thought he agreed with him. The woman had seemed serious, but there had been such a... lack of compassion in her demeanour that he couldn't believe she had really been affected by what she had heard. He had felt rather like a product that was being evaluated. 

At breakfast, Charlotte leaned over to him. "Whatever that article brings, Remus," she said in a low tone so that nobody would hear it, "I wanted to thank you for keeping your head there yesterday. I'm guilty of snapping at them a few times - I don't know how you do it - I can't put up with that sort of crap." 

He realised she must still be angry, as he had never heard her swear before. But she was smiling grimly. "You can teach us all a lesson about self-control." 

He smiled back. "I understood your reactions better than you think. I've just learned that it's unwise to behave like - well. The beast they think you are." He was still unspeakably shocked at the inspectors' behaviour, especially at Foddersworth's words. Even though he had heard similar insults many times. Even though he knew the people out there thought this way. It was still not easy to accept the fact that, because of what he was, he was hated by ninety-nine percent of the wizarding population. 

The door opened, and Teri entered. She was holding a newspaper, and her face was set. A sudden hush fell over the table, and without a word of comment, Teri unfolded the newspaper and began to read. 

_**A new generation of werewolves **_

Charlotte Merloue believed that everyone deserved an equal chance - and opened up a school for werewolves. By Begonia Biggens 

They are right among us. Twenty-one young werewolves aged from ten to seventeen, from all over the world, are living in the south of England. Headmistress Charlotte Merloue, originally from France, opened the Centre for Lycanthropic Children in September 1993. She has set her mind on giving them the same education as normal children. "We treat them as if they were human beings," says Merloue in her soft French voice, her eyes bright. "They are just kids, the poor things!" 

After leaving Beauxbatons, the French school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Merloue turned down several job offers and decided to travel across America, "to escape my boring home town," as she explains herself. "But mainly because I didn't feel like getting a job." A year after her departure, she met werewolf rights activist Paulo Gomes from Latin America. Together they devised the plan to bring together young werewolves from all over the world who, classified as beasts by the Decree of 1376, are not allowed at ordinary schools. 

Since then, Merloue's werewolf shelter has grown considerably, the number of students having risen from six to twenty-one. The werewolves have, until quite recently, been supervised by Merloue and Gomes, as well as a Muggle from a nearby village and a 'social worker' from North America. But with the start of term, Merloue welcomed a new member of staff to the school: famous werewolf teacher Remus Lupin, who taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry two years ago. Appointed by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Lupin resigned after having been exposed as a werewolf, to the relief of students and parents alike. 

"This school is a perfect opportunity for these children," explains Lupin, who, as the Daily Prophet _reported, attended Hogwarts as a child without ever revealing his true identity. "We are showing them how to integrate themselves so that nobody will know." In other words, to become a Remus Lupin - dissimulating their lycanthropy and pretending to be an equal member of the community with equal rights? _

"Well, personally, I give a damn about the community," says werewolf Jeorge in a sarcastic tone and a thick Spanish accent, "but I have to earn money somehow." 

It was a while before anyone spoke. 

"So," Nora said quietly, "this is what we are to the public now?" 

Charlotte gave a low growl. Most of the children stared down at their plates. Gómez was shaking his head. "You didn't really say any of that, did you?" 

Remus shook his head, along with Charlotte and Jorge (although it seemed to Remus as though the boy were looking slightly guilty). Sofie Bradley, who was famous for knowing long text passages from books by heart, shook her head in despair. 

"Professor Lupin never said anything like that. He said something like, 'We're giving them the education the wizarding world refuses to give them, so they may have a better chance to integrate themselves into the community'. No rubbish about teaching us how to pretend so that no-one knows." 

"Not speaking of 'Zey are just keeds! _Les pauvres'_!" chimed in Anne-Laure Dauphin, and Charlotte laughed, a pleasant sound that seemed to lower the tension a bit. 

"Do look at what they wrote about me, though!" Charlotte exclaimed that evening in the teacher's common room, sounding half-amused, half-exasperated. "Stupid, emotional girl from France who didn't want to get a job, so roamed around the world instead." 

"At least you're not a werewolf rights activist from Latin America," Gómez muttered, and Teri snorted. "Although I wouldn't want to be called Merloue, really." 

Charlotte heaved a great sigh, one of many that day. 

"At least it's over now. God, how I hate these people." She shook her head. "You have no idea how long I had to negotiate with them to at least maintain this level of financial support. They wanted to cut down on supplies again." Her eyes rested on Remus, and she shook her head sadly. "It's a good thing we're getting a bit of support from some of the parents as well. Aimée's parents, Tinh's parents and Felix's grandma... although I daresay none of them has a lot of money either." 

Then, suddenly, a new wave of fury seemed to surge through her. 

"But Foddersworth wouldn't even listen to me when I talked about the Wolfsbane Potion! Even though it would lessen the danger they're all so afraid of, the bastards!" 

Gómez waved an impatient hand. "Get the hell over it, Charlotte. When will you ever accept that the world is like that?" 

She was looking at Gómez, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes narrowed, her jaw set. And Remus realised what this strong woman had already gone through to get here - and that she would still, willingly, go through much more. 

Charlotte slowly shook her head. "Never." 

*** 


	8. Chapter 8

__

A/N: Ahem. I'm back. Thanks to Cas and Zsenya for beta-reading, and thanks to all those of you who reviewed and told me to move my... fingers.

****

Chapter Eight

On the morning of Hallowe'en, Anne-Laure Dauphin looked up from her pumpkin pie and said in a quiet voice:

"Professor Merlot?"

Remus had never heard her talk about anything besides her hair, her fingernails and her favourite subject, Charms. In fact, he hadn't heard her talk much at all; she stuck together with Rachel Fitzgerald and Karolka Wyszinski all the time and usually let them do the talking.

Yet there was something in her voice this time that stopped all the talk in the dining room and made everyone look at her expectantly.

"Yes, Anne-Laure?" asked Charlotte, who knew that her compatriot was fond of hearing her full name.

The girl was suddenly looking very nervous. "I was wondering whether we should write a letter to the _Daily Prophet_ and tell them what we really think, what we really... are. I mean, that article wasn't really talking about us."

The students and teachers looked at each other, stunned. The only reaction Charlotte allowed herself was a slight raise of her eyebrows and a small smile, and her reply sounded as though she had given this a great deal of thought herself.

"I'm afraid nobody would listen to us, dear. It's true that what we said was so distorted by that... woman... that their readers can't help fearing us. But any letter we would write would be similarly changed."

Anne-Laure was now looking positively frightened at all the attention she was getting, but she didn't seem convinced. "But there must be some way we could show the public that we're not, you know. Dangerous. I mean, we..." She looked around the table, at all the other students who were looking at her. "We are. But we know how to deal with the danger. Somehow we must find a way to convince them that we're human, errr... 97 percent of the time."

She threw an inquiring glance at Gómez, their Arithmancy teacher-to-be, and he nodded, smiling slightly. It seemed that next to Charms, this was her other hobby. 

"That's very idealistic, Anne," chimed in Teri Longbottom, who couldn't pronounce 'Anne-Laure' and didn't care one bit whether she liked the abbreviation of her name or not. However, she was the girl's favourite teacher and the only one who got away with it. 

"Unfortunately, even if by some miracle the _Prophet _printed our letter in our exact words, few people are bound to change their opinion. And, you know, those people who are likely to believe us often have enough sense not to take the _Prophet_ too seriously anyway." 

It seemed to Remus as though she had wanted to end on a more positive note. As for him, time and experience had taught him that people like that hardly existed – but then, he hadn't known Charlotte until now.

"How quickly she's growing up!" Charlotte exclaimed later, when she was sitting with Remus in the teachers' common room, chatting and watching the morning's Flying lesson outside. "I remember only a year ago she still blushed and giggled whenever she was addressed, and didn't seem to have any other worries besides the colour of her eyeshadow."

"Yes, it's a fascinating age," Remus agreed. "I didn't know she was planning to do something about that article."

"Oh, I know that girl," Charlotte said. "She's very... how shall I put it? Spontaneous in her thoughts and opinions. I'll bet you anything that the thought just popped into her mind this morning."

She stared out of the window. Anne-Laure was trying to keep up with Aimée Martin, who was speeding along on her broom towards the ball they were supposed to catch – Remus might have found Teri a bit tedious at times, but her Flying lessons certainly looked like fun.

"Speaking of spontaneity," Charlotte said, tearing her eyes away from the window. "What are you doing this weekend?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "I'm scared now."

Her laugh sounded somewhat forced. She seemed to consider whether to speak or not. "Listen, I've been thinking about this for a while, and this morning's conversation – let's say it inspired me to come to a decision. I want to go to France to have a word with Anne-Laure's parents. And I want you to come with me."

Remus frowned, wondering which question to ask first. "She's not in contact with her parents at all, is she?"

The Headmistress shook her head. "They left her in Ste Marianne's when she was bitten. But they paid for the treatment, at least – or let's say, for the attempts at treating her – and I think her mother visited her a few times. However they broke off all contact when I took Anne to England." Looking slightly guilty, she sighed.

"A few weeks ago Anne's mother wrote to me, asking how her daughter was, telling me how much she missed her and how much she regretted not being there for her now. However she hasn't written to Anne yet because she thinks the girl hates her... and apparently her husband hasn't mentioned their daughter once since she left France. I asked Madame Dauphin whether she wanted me to visit them and have a word with Anne's father, and she seemed to think it would be a good idea."

Charlotte sighed again, gazing once more out of the window. "She's a very insecure girl. It would do her so much good..."

Remus was still frowning. "Charlotte, I'm not sure if that's a good idea. Her father won't like being confronted with that again."

"Oh, but I don't care whether he would _like_ that, Remus!" Charlotte's temper was rising again. "You're always so sensitive towards everyone. This man needs a good shake, a reminder that he has a daughter out there who lives on despite his neglect. What are you smiling at?" she added, in a slightly aggressive tone.

"Oh, you just reminded me of a friend of mine, who always says that I'm too diplomatic and too careful. In fact, you remind me of him a lot; he's quite hot-tempered himself."

Charlotte grinned. "Do bring him here one day, he sounds perfect. Is he single?"

"He definitely is. I will introduce you if I ever get the chance." Remus smiled. "Anyway... how will you convince this man that his daughter is not a beast?"

"Well, that's where you come in. A grown-up, educated, calm werewolf is something Monsieur, and probably Madame Dauphin would never deem possible, and your presence could convince them that Anne-Laure is in the right hands. They might even support the school, which is always a nice bonus."

Charlotte didn't sound entirely convinced of this herself, and Remus shook his head resignedly. He had a bad feeling about this, but he knew Charlotte well enough to know that, now that she had decided, she would go, with or without him. And in that case, he would rather accompany her. "All right; what shall we tell the others about where we're going? I don't suppose you want to tell them the truth?"

"Definitely not. I was thinking we could tell them we're going to Mali to get a Clabbert for Care of Magical Creatures."

He nodded. His new subject was starting next week, and so far he had brought a dozen Mokes; he had been thinking of getting a Clabbert anyway. "Maybe we can really do that if we have the time."

"_D'accord._" She clasped her hands together. "So we should probably go to the International Floo and Portkey Office in the morning, it's always so full on weekends."

"And you just reminded me," said Remus, "that I will need to use the _Loquilingua_ Charm. I learned French once, but I was never particularly talented for it. And I heard the French were a bit, er, peculiar about talking to people who addressed them in English."

For the first time that day, Charlotte laughed out loud, something she usually didn't go without for long, and the day felt much more normal at once. 

"Oh, prejudices, prejudices! Anyway, you're right of course. That Charm needs to be cast by someone else, doesn't it? I never learned it in Beauxbatons – and you can keep your thoughts to yourself on that," she added, seeing that Remus was smiling. "We'll ask Teri to do it."

~~~

Teri was normally scheduled for the two hours of afternoon study on Tuesdays, but Charlotte had allowed the children a free afternoon (even though officially it was called "unsupervised homework and study"), so that she herself could prepare whatever surprise she was cooking up. This meant that Teri was free to cast the _Loquilingua_ Charm on Remus.

"Do you know why somebody else has to cast it?" Remus asked, when they were sitting in the Charms classroom in the afternoon. "It seems like a rather complicated procedure for such a useful Charm."

"Oh yes. I've often wished to understand the Kolnikov brothers!" Teri said. "However, as far as I know – historians aren't sure about this – the use of the Charm was restricted a long time ago because it had been used too often in an irresponsible way. People weren't really aware of the implications – understanding each and every language spoken around them..."

"... and often provoked the most difficult conflicts by reacting to something they shouldn't have understood," added Remus, who suddenly remembered Professor Binns mentioning this. _I must have been distracted in that particular lesson, _he thought.

"Exactly," replied Teri. "Besides many people didn't know how to end the Charm, and that can get quite difficult. Our brains can't process all the information over a long period." She gave him a half-smile. "I'm afraid you'll have to live with it till next Monday, though, because I won't be here before that. You can already test it tonight." 

She suddenly looked a bit awkward. "I'm afraid the only way to see whether it's working is by awakening my very rusty Spanish. You don't happen to understand... er... _Por qué te gusta ser profesor?_"

Remus smiled. "I can guess the last word, but that's about it."

"Good." Without further ado, Teri stood up and raised her wand. "_Loquilingua._ I'll see you tonight then." She made to turn away and walk towards the door.

"Where did you receive your education, by the way?" Remus asked, who had long been impressed with her abilities as a Charmer. She stopped and turned around.

"Salem Witches' Institute. But I went to learn with a professional Charmer in Salem after graduation, Fridolina Finsley, she's one of the best. I still work with her, that's why I'm only here part-time." 

She seemed to want to leave, but Remus' curiosity had been awakened. He wasn't usually of the sort to press others into telling their life story, but he supposed one or two discreet questions couldn't hurt. 

"You were born in Salem, then?" he asked, already anticipating a negative answer.

Her expression seemed to tense slightly, but he could have imagined that. "No. I come from a small town in the north of Lancashire. I moved to the States with my mother when I was very small."

Remus nodded to himself – Frank had once said something about only growing up with his father... But it seemed almost impertinent to ask any more, so he stayed silent; this time, however, it was Teri who continued the conversation.

"You went to Hogwarts as a schoolboy, right?" she said, approaching him again and sitting down. Seeing him nod, she continued, "Remember the Hufflepuff prefect?"

Remus blinked. He couldn't believe she was bringing up the subject on her own, but there she was, making a clear reference to Frank Longbottom. He had been one of the most lenient prefects Remus had ever experienced, and had even taken part in one of their... projects, once. He had also been a very valuable member of the Order before the attack.

"Of course I remember Frank." He paused. "I assume the two of you are related?"

"He's my brother." Her expression was still as neutral as always, but her voice was quivering slightly. Suddenly, she said, very quickly, "What's Neville like?"

Remus didn't know this woman at all, and he had the feeling it would take a lot of time to do so, but he knew that he was experiencing a very rare moment, one that was not to be lost.

"Neville is a very quiet student. Rather clumsy at times, and insecure, but – from what I could tell – very loyal to his friends and courageous in his own way. He's in Gryffindor."

Teri blinked, and looked away. Suddenly she smiled. "He's always been clumsy. I went to visit him and his grandmother once... he was about six or so, and kept overturning things..." She broke off, and seemed to struggle to regain her composure. When she spoke again, she was back to her booming, self-confident tone. 

"Well, we're done here," she said and stood up. "You'll see tonight whether the charm works or not, but I'm pretty confident it should. Just remember not to react to everything you hear." She nodded at him distractedly, but strode past him with determination. On the doorstep, however, she seemed to remember something and turned around.

"Remus? _Por qué te gusta ser profesor?_"

It was a very odd feeling – something in the back of his mind registered that the sounds were different to what he usually heard and understood, but had they not talked about this before, he wouldn't even have known that Teri had just spoken Spanish.

He smiled. "Because it's exciting to fill young, unexperienced minds with knowledge, and to be able to subtly include lessons of morality."

He would have been completely unable to tell which language he had just spoken himself, however, had not Teri raised her eyebrows and muttered, "Well, I understood about half of that, but I guess the charm is working."

~~~

It was the first time in more than a decade that he would be at a Hallowe'en party, and it felt unusual, to say the least. Yes, there was always the cliché of "they wouldn't have wanted you to mourn them forever." But that didn't make it any easier to enjoy himself on this very night.

Actually, the last _real_ Hallowe'en was so long ago that he hardly remembered anything about it; the war hadn't given them much chance to have real parties at all after they had left school. They had tried to meet regardless, and there had always been some joke by James, or some prank Sirius played on any member of the party. But it had always been behind locked doors, always with the thought in the back of their minds that an owl or another messenger could break up their circle at any moment. Maybe that was why their friendship had grown so intense during those years.

Remus had been walking down the stairs, deep in thought; he was early and wasn't expecting anyone to go down to the feast yet, so he was surprised to find Nora at the bottom of the stairs, looking quite apprehensively at the door leading to the dining room.

"Scared to go in?" he inquired, coming to a stop next to her. Not that he could blame her; he himself was a bit afraid of finding out what exactly Charlotte had planned for tonight.

Nora nodded sideways at him as a way of greeting. Their relationship, far from just being a student – teacher one, had almost developed into that of two colleagues. Which was, among other things, due to the fact that, during the last full moon, Nora had – after initially putting up a fight – finally granted him a place at her side. It looked as though they were going to be the first platonic Alpha male and female in history; for Charlotte had told him in secret that the Alpha female seemed to have given her heart to a certain other wolf, her protector, long ago. _"It seems as though the animal is a bit quicker on the uptake than the human,"_ she had added, grinning.

"You know how Professor Merlot is our History teacher?" said Nora in her quiet voice, and Remus nodded. "Well, she never misses a chance for a more practical approach. Last year at Hallowe'en we entered that room and suddenly found ourselves in October 31st, 1749, when the Statute of Secrecy was breached."

"What, you travelled back in time?" asked Remus, astonished.

"Oh, no, it was a simulation, but I assure you it was a very realistic one." Nora shuddered. "At least we were only spectators, I wouldn't have wanted to get into one of those wizard-Muggle fights back then. Or when the vampires decided to interfere."

"That sounds like a very original thing to do on Hallowe'en."

"Oh yes, very original. Tell me," she looked at him, cocking her head to one side, "is the Headmaster at Hogwarts any less eccentric?"

Remus laughed. "No, he is just as bad. And Nora, that's not the way to talk about one of your teachers."

She smiled. Very rarely had he heard her laugh. "I'm sure she would consider that a compliment. Shall we go in, then?"

As they approached the door - hearing shrieks, the clattering of hooves, the ringing of church bells coming from inside - Hedda and Jedda suddenly opened their mouths and shouted:

"IF YOU'RE A WITCH AND YOU LOVE LIFE,

HIDE YOUR WAND AND SWITCH IT FOR A KNIFE!"

They burst into shrieking laughter as usual, but it sounded far more menacing this time, probably because of their words. Nora and Remus looked at each other with raised eyebrows and entered.

They found themselves in the middle of what looked like a medieval marketplace: a large square surrounded by half-timbered houses with pointy roofs, and an impressive-looking church. It was well after nightfall, and the strangest things seemed to be happening. Owls and ravens kept swooping in and landing on people's heads, other people were being chased across the marketplace by inanimate objects such as teapots and brooms, and many seemed to be eager to reach their houses safely, lock themselves up and extinguish all the lights once they had arrived.

A woman, having seen them standing in the middle of the place, came hurrying towards them, strands of thick curly hair falling out from under her bonnet. "Quick, sir and lady, you must find shelter, the witching hour is near!" She made to drag them with her away from the marketplace, but in that moment a family of white mice shot out from underneath the carriage next to them, straight under her long skirt, and she shrieked and ran for dear life.

"What _is_ this place?" asked Nora, gazing around as if searching for a familiar face and looking, like Remus, torn between bewilderment and amusement.

"I assume it is an English town on October 31st in the 13th or 14th century," he replied, shaking his head in amazement. "And it looks as though the wizarding population is quite active tonight."

Nora shook her head. "What are they thinking of, performing magic in front of the Muggles like that?"

Remus smiled amusedly. "Well, we can assume that this is a first lesson your History teacher wants you to learn – surely you remember the year the Statute of Secrecy was introduced?"

Nora snorted. "Good point. Errr... I think it was at the end of the 17th century?"

"1692, if I remember correctly," said a familiar voice right behind them, and they turned to find Sofie Bradley – wearing a look that said that she always remembered correctly – accompanied by Samuel Harris, Leonid Dimitroff and Felix Rosenstrauch, as well as the Kolnikov brothers who were eyeing their surroundings with far more interest than they usually dared to show. In fact, they seemed to be quite enjoying themselves, while Sofie shook her head reprovingly at her surroundings.

"This is _exactly_ the sort of behaviour that provoked all those witch burnings in the 14th century!" she said in a scandalized voice, and Remus saw the boys roll their eyes behind her back. It even looked as though Andrej Kolnikov was about comment, but in that instant there was suddenly a loud uproar behind them, and Remus and Nora whirled around.

Crowds of furious-looking men and women were marching onto the market place, carrying torches, pitchforks and other weapons, and – Olivier Mbomo and Joseph Joplin, who were struggling on the shoulders of some of the men.

"Olivier!" called Nora, looking more frightened than Remus had ever seen her, but her shout was drowned out by the loud chorus chanted by the Muggles.

"Sorcerers! Devils! Demons! Burn them!"

The children and Remus watched as more than fifty people, among them many who had been fleeing from enchanted objects earlier, spilled out onto the marketplace, bringing twigs and branches, shouting angrily and waving their fists at the two boys, who were looking positively terrified.

"So that's what this is about! Witch burnings!" shouted Sofie Bradley over all the noise. She was wearing a look of keen interest now, although she still eyed the villagers warily. "What do you think we should do, Professor? Help them with magic or somehow tell them to use a Flame Freezing Charm?"

Remus had just opened his mouth to answer when he heard someone behind him muttering, just loudly enough, "Maybe we should stick the know-it-all on there instead and see how well she does," and someone else sniggered in response.

He turned around and stared at the Kolnikov brothers, who stared back at him in turn. And he suddenly realized that he shouldn't have reacted at all. Andrej had been speaking Russian. Leonid Dimitroff, standing between them and Felix Rosenstrauch as usual, was looking extremely uncomfortable, but didn't reply.

Forcing himself not to comment, Remus turned around again. Olivier and Joseph had now been tied together on a large stake. "I'm not sure they would hear us over all that noise," he said, trying to calm himself with the thought that this was just a simulation. He was also held back by the thought that the children were supposed to learn from this, so he should not interfere. "Perhaps they will – Nora! What are you doing?"

Nora had suddenly run forwards into the crowd and drawn out her wand. She was shouting at the boys, but they couldn't hear her; they were surrounded by more than twenty people screaming insults at them. Olivier seemed paralysed, and Joseph had closed his eyes in terror.

Remus tried to run after Nora, but the crowd was becoming thicker by the minute and it was almost impossible to get through. Struggling, he watched helplessly as Nora sent a few red sparks at the people surrounding the boys, and was grabbed almost instantly by angry villagers around her.

"Oh, this is not good, this is not good!" whimpered Sofie Bradley. "They're going to take her wand away!"

But when Nora was tied over the fire next to Olivier, who stared at her in pure horror, shaking his head violently, Remus saw her drawing her wand behind her back and giving Olivier a small, reassuring smile. Remus gave up trying to fight his way through the crowd, watching as the flames started to burn below them, but the three children weren't even sweating. Joseph, however, was shrieking so convincingly that the villagers seemed satisfied.

"If that isn't true love, then I don't know," said Felix Rosenstrauch.

***

Joseph still hadn't quite recovered from the events of Hallowe'en on the weekend. He and Olivier, who were often to be seen sticking their heads together, presumably planning a – mostly harmless – trick on one of the other students, had been unnaturally quiet for a few days. Although Remus (who now knew what it was like to be teaching young pranksters) had thought that made for a nice change, he was still a bit worried about their state of mind.

He had discussed Charlotte's approach of teaching History of Magic with her afterwards, and she had admitted that her simulation had turned out a bit more chaotic than she had planned; but she firmly objected when he said that the students should have been better prepared.

"That is precisely what I was trying to do, Remus – prepare them to react when they're not prepared," she said and smiled. "For one thing, I wanted to show them first-hand what life was like back then, of course; and to be frank, I'm quite glad Olivier and Joseph found out that there are some limits to their practical jokes." She suddenly grew serious again. "For another, they can never be sufficiently prepared for what is coming after school."

And here, she had given him a curious glance. "I daresay you know what I mean when I say that we have some difficult times ahead."

Remus had raised his eyebrows in surprise. "As far as I know, the _Daily Prophet _is busy trying to convince everyone of the opposite... what makes you say that?"

"Remember my friend, Dorothy Granger, whose daughter you taught at Hogwarts? Dorothy is a Muggle, and so she doesn't know much about the matter, but her daughter seems very sure that ... You-Know-Who has returned." Charlotte shuddered, but she seemed to have accepted the truth some time ago.

Remus nodded. "She would be." He had wondered for a brief moment then whether Charlotte knew where he went almost every Sunday; he was sure she had her suspicions, but she had never asked.

It was Saturday morning, and they were preparing to leave for London. Anne-Laure's mother had written back and agreed to their visit, although she had sounded quite apprehensive in her letter, Charlotte said.

Many of the children, especially Felix Rosenstrauch and Leonid Dimitroff, had been thrilled to hear that they were going to Mali, and both boys had been asking them all week in a casual tone whether they would need help from two eager assistants who had, obviously, already learned a lot of Defence techniques. But Remus and Charlotte had fended them off by saying they were far too young.

They Apparated directly into Diagon Alley, which was busy as usual, even more so since it was the weekend. The International Floo and Portkey Office was at the other end of town, and they had to travel for an hour by tube to get there. However, unlike most other witches, Charlotte was quite talented at dressing in the Muggle way, and Remus had had many years of experience, so they didn't attract any attention.

"Remus Lupin?" said the witch behind the counter, looking up from her register and eyeing him curiously. "Where do I know that name from?"

"I don't know," he replied innocently, feeling Charlotte's look on him. The witch behind the counter shrugged. "Oh well. France it is, then? Room 24, Mr Laurent."

"Thank you," said Charlotte, and they proceeded to room 24. "You get that a lot, then?" she inquired while they were walking up the stairs.

"Oh yes. And you had better prepare for it, too." Remus smiled wryly. "Now that you have acquired fame."

"I suppose so," she said darkly and knocked at the door. A rather short man in dark blue robes opened, smiled up at them and beckoned them in. "Good day! Where are you going to?"

Again, it took Remus a moment to notice the man had spoken French. _Interesting_, he thought, _so it isn't even assumed that we might not speak it. Is he expecting us to use _Loquilingua_, or does Charlotte look French to him somehow?_

"To Aix-en-Provence," replied Charlotte, and before Remus even had the chance to properly analyze her different intonation – her voice sounded higher, somewhat – Mr Laurent clapped his hands together and exclaimed:

"Ah! A charming town! On holiday?" he asked, looking from Charlotte to Remus interestedly, clearly thinking them a couple.

"Visiting a few friends," Remus replied, and saw Charlotte looking at him with a very amused expression – apparently, he sounded just as different when he was speaking French.

"Very well," replied Laurent and, tapping a glass on the table with his wand, he said, _"Portus. _This will take you directly to our office in Aix, in twenty seconds exactly. Have a good trip!"

They thanked Laurent and got up, holding the glass between them. Exactly twenty seconds later, they arrived in a very similar-looking office.

"I hate Portkeys," grumbled Charlotte, still speaking French. They left the office and emerged in the centre of Aix-en-Provence, which was indeed a 'charming town', Remus thought. Although it almost looked a bit too perfect for his taste – everything was very clean, the people were well dressed, and ...

"_Bourgeois_," muttered Charlotte, eyeing the people around her with clear dislike. Then, noticing Remus' curious glance, she explained, "This is the sort of environment I grew up in. It seems like a great society, everyone's polite and friendly, but if you're really looking for charity, or if you don't follow your parents' path, you're suddenly an outcast." She was looking as though she was already regretting coming here. "Let's get it done with."

They rode on a bus (Charlotte had paid with _Francs_ she had kept "out of sentimentality") for more than half an hour, passing the outskirts, driving through beautiful countryside and finally arriving in an even smaller town which consisted of a few very fancy-looking houses with huge gardens and gleaming fences. It looked as though it were purely inhabited by Muggles. Remus studied his surroundings uncomfortably. This did not exactly look like the sort of place that would be friendly towards werewolves.

Charlotte was looking similarly apprehensive, although she, like Remus, seemed to want to hide her thoughts. Maybe they both thought that, if they only believed it could work, then it would. Remus sighed inwardly. His bad feeling was increasing by the minute.

"There we are," said Charlotte, when they had been walking quietly for a few minutes. They had arrived in front of a house that was slightly smaller than the ones they had seen first – a good sign, perhaps? – but it still looked extremely well-kept and large enough to be inhabited by two families.

They were standing in front of the black and golden fence. "You know," said Charlotte, looking more nervous than Remus had ever seen her, "I'm not quite sure Mme Dauphin has told her husband about us. She seemed to think it would be better if we broke the news to him here and now."

Remus' uneasy feeling intensified. "I don't know whether that will improve matters." 

Charlotte sighed and rang the bell. Her hand was shaking slightly, but she took a deep, audible breath and seemed to steady herself. The gate opened, and they walked up to the door, which was opened by a very pretty woman who was holding a baby in her arms.

If Charlotte was surprised, there was only a very small pause that showed it. "Madame Dauphin?"

"Yes?" She replied, looking half-anxiously, half-curiously from one to the other.

"Charlotte Merlot, and this is Monsieur Lupin."

The woman swallowed. "Please come in, Mademoiselle, Monsieur..." She led them into a spacious, cosy living-room. "My husband is outside walking the dog. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

They declined, and followed suit when Mme Dauphin sat down in an armchair in front of the crackling fire.

For a moment or two, there was an uncomfortable pause, then Charlotte said, "Mme Dauphin..."

"How is Anne-Laure?" the woman interrupted her, almost in a whisper. Remus was surprised to see a mixture of pain and guilt on the woman's face for a second before she looked down, pretending to adjust the blanket wrapped around the baby. Charlotte seemed to have seen this too, for her voice sounded more hopeful when she replied.

"She's very well. She has made lots of friends, and her marks are good. She is quite talented at Charms and Arithmancy."

Mme Dauphin smiled, her eyes shining. "Charms used to be my favourite subject. And Arithmancy, she must have got that from Jacques..."

Charlotte smiled back. "I wouldn't be surprised if you shared more than this. Although she never talks about it, I know how much Anne misses her parents."

A very small sob escaped the woman's mouth, and she looked down again. Her child had woken up and was starting to cry. Mme Dauphin rocked the child in her arms and looked up again. "I... I'm ... I'm so –"

They heard the door open, and the next moment a large terrier came bounding into the room, licking his mistress' hand. She stroked him absently, her eyes fixed on the door.

"Noémie?" a man's voice called, and her husband came striding towards them. "I heard François crying, what is it?" He looked at Charlotte and Remus with distrust. "Who are these people?"

"I... they're..." _Please don't tell him, _Remus thought, who had a very bad feeling about the man. 

"They're the people I told you about, darling," she said, standing up to kiss him. "The ones from the orphanage..."

Remus exchanged a glance with Charlotte, and he could see that she thought as little of Mme Dauphin's method as he did. She stood up, approached the man and held out her hand.

"Charlotte Merlot, Monsieur Dauphin. I'm your daughter's teacher."

Instead of taking her hand, M. Dauphin took a step back, staring at Charlotte. He looked from his wife back to them and finally said, in a hard voice, "I have no daughter, Madame."

Mme Dauphin gave an even louder sob and clutched her son, who was crying louder and louder. "Jacques..."

"No, Noémie," he said, his voice still calm, but steely. "We decided long ago that this ... girl ... is nothing to us anymore. We have François, remember? Now, Madame, I must ask you to go." He beckoned imperiously towards the door. Next to him, his wife was staring at them, lost for words, her cheeks now wet with silent tears.

Remus wanted desperately to leave, and he looked at Charlotte trying to catch her gaze. But her eyes were fixed on Anne-Laure's father, and he could see that she was pressing her teeth tightly together in suppressed rage.

"Monsieur," she said, and it seemed to be costing her every ounce of effort to not shout at him, "I am appalled at your behaviour. How can you ignore having a daughter, when she is still out there, a live, feeling teenager, probably thinking of her parents night and day, not understanding why they don't love her as she loves them?"

The man did not seem impressed by this at all, for his hard look never wavered. "This is where you are quite wrong, I think. I do not believe that ... werewolves ... have feelings." 

At this, Mme Dauphin gave a loud gasp and fled away from them. They could hear her crying with her son upstairs.

Charlotte was looking livid and seemed ready to murder him. "Monsieur Dauphin..."

Remus laid a hand on her arm. "Monsieur Dauphin," he said, "I'm afraid it is you who are quite wrong. Werewolves do indeed have feelings, as I myself am willing to testify."

The man stared at him as though really seeing him for the first time, and his hard look turned into one of revulsion. "You had better leave this house quick, werewolf, before I call the Ministry," he snapped. "And you," he spat at Charlotte, "never contact me or my wife again."

He practically pushed them towards the door and slammed it shut in their faces. Charlotte, her arm in Remus' grip, made a move forwards, but he held her back.

"Remus," she said, her voice shaking. She turned towards him, and he could see that her eyes were on fire. "Let me go."

"No." He gripped both her shoulders. "We will leave now."

"Remus!" She struggled under his firm grip, and for a moment the expression on her face frightened him. Then she looked down, and said quietly, through gritted teeth, "Fine."

They walked all the way back to Aix without saying one word, Charlotte occasionally kicking a stone on their path. Then, just when they were entering the outskirts, she stopped and turned to Remus. For a moment she seemed unsure what to say; then she smiled, ever so slightly.

"I knew it was a good idea to take you with me."

He smiled back, and they continued the rest of their journey in silence.

***


	9. Chapter 9

__

A/N: Thanks to my betas Cas and Zsenya, and to the brand new member of the happy band: The wonderful Livia Liana.

Chapter Nine

"Ah, it's Mr Mysterious!"

It was Larry Levine's shrill tenor that snapped Remus out of his morning reverie. He wished Levine would stop calling him that. He also wished that he could manage to leave once without the music teacher catching him on his way downstairs. But however early he got ready on Sundays, Levine already seemed to be there waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. The only reason Remus was startled by him this time was that he had been lost in last night's dream, which had been very unsettling.

"You look pale, Mr Mysterious," said Levine, now level with him at the picture gallery on the second floor, facing the door to the common room. Levine was a tall, thin man with brown, shoulder-length hair which was always unkempt, wearing robes which were always untidy, and always had a red shawl draped around his shoulders.

"Bad night's sleep?" he asked, throwing his shawl back over his right shoulder, a typical gesture. "Off to your usual mysterious Sunday meeting?"

Remus nodded. He knew from experience that if he gave Levine any sort of encouragement, if he showed any interest in pursuing the conversation, then there would be no stopping the man. He had made the mistake once. As a consequence, he had been late for the Order meeting, having been too polite to interrupt Levine's monologue about the dreadful consequences of enchanting a violin. (The very first mistake Remus had made had been to mention that he liked classical music and knew a bit about musical theory.)

He had talked about Levine to Constance and Angela once, and in the end had come up with the theory (to the ladies' delight) that the man was so musical that he never grew tired of hearing his own melodious voice.

Unfortunately, his superior hearing (he claimed to have perfect pitch) never picked up on any nuance that indicated boredom in the other person's tone of voice.

"One day you will have to enlighten us about these meetings," Levine was babbling, while Remus was only half-listening, smiling politely and edging ever so slightly closer to the staircase. However, the other man's insistence on the subject worried him. It reminded him that he _would_ have to explain about Sundays at some point; Charlotte might not remain as discreet about this as she had been so far.

The door to the common room opened just as Levine was lost in a monologue about Handel (_How did he come to this in such a short time? The man's mind jumps between subjects faster than an Abraxan. I should never have mentioned that I like the _Messiah), and Anne-Laure appeared, looking happier than Remus had seen her in a long time.

"Oh! Professor Lupin, Professor Levine," she said, breathlessly. She was holding a letter in her hand and seemed to be yearning to tell them whom it was from. But she had always been shy.

"Anne-Laure! Bonjour!" trilled Levine, visibly happy to see someone who was more interested in him than Remus; because, even though Levine might still live under the illusion that he fascinated the other man, nothing could have outweighed Anne-Laure's deep affection for her piano teacher. "What have you got there?"

For once, Remus was glad that Levine was so talkative. Anne-Laure's eyes lit up at the question.

"It's a letter from my mother!" she exclaimed. "She hasn't written to me in years. And guess what? I have a little brother!"

"That's wonderful, Anne-Laure," said Remus, his heart suddenly full of affection for the shy girl. _So we _did_ change something..._

The Order meeting was a subdued one. Five days before, Yasmina Carter – one of their newest members, an extremely bright witch who worked at the Ministry – had vanished without a trace. She had left work in the afternoon, but never arrived at home. Her husband had possessed the presence of mind to send an Owl to Dumbledore – apparently, she had told him whom to contact in case something went wrong, and that was just as well, since until this day the Ministry hadn't publicly announced the disappearance.

"Just makes you wonder how many others have disappeared whom we know nothing about," said Arabella Figg grimly.

They were grouped around the table in the office, quietly sipping their tea. Fletcher was missing; apparently, he was trying to get information about Yasmina out of some of his friends at the _Daily Prophet_.

"We might have been able to act more swiftly had we been informed of it earlier," Dumbledore said quietly. "We cannot blame Mr. Wood, of course. But we need to make sure now that all of us find a relative, or friend, whom we trust to inform the Order immediately in case of danger."

They all nodded. Remus wondered to himself whom he could possibly trust enough apart from Sirius; and since he didn't see Sirius very often, it seemed sort of pointless to choose him_. Well, you'll just have to start a daily correspondence with Sirius then,_ he thought, and wasn't at all displeased by the prospect.

Minerva McGonagall was still looking doubtful, however, and when Dumbledore asked what she was thinking, she slowly shook her head. "It's not enough. We need more people at the Ministry."

"We just need more peoplein_ general_," replied Molly Weasley exasperatedly.

And Remus suddenly realized. He knew who else could help them. He worked with several very good witches and one wizard who were quite wary of the government and would be far more likely to believe him than Fudge or the _Daily Prophet. _Why hadn't he thought of this before? The question was, would they help the Order?

He looked up to see that Dumbledore was fixing him with an earnest, searching look. The others were still looking at the floor, probably lost in thoughts of Yasmina.

"Yes, Remus," said Dumbledore. "That's what I've been thinking."

The others looked up and raised inquiring eyebrows. Snape, however, made an impatient sound. "Dumbledore, you can't mean –"

"Yes, Severus, I can," said Dumbledore quietly, meeting Snape's glare with a friendly, but determined look. "Do I have to remind you that we are in desperate need of any help, whatever our feelings about the person?"

Snape, frowning, looked from Dumbledore to Remus, but under the displeased stare of all present, he finally shook his head. "No, Headmaster."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "Remus, I believe your colleagues will not be inclined to believe the Ministry over you?"

"I don't think so," replied Remus. He still couldn't shake off his uneasy feeling about the matter... it was as though he felt unwilling to share any information about Charlotte and the others. But Dumbledore was right – they needed all the help they could get. "In fact," he continued, "I found out recently that the Headmistress knows about Voldemort's return. "

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, looking quite pleased.

"But are you sure we can trust them?" asked Minerva. "I don't mean to offend your colleagues, Remus," she hastened to add. Remus smiled, although he saw Snape, sitting next to Minerva, still looking at him in disgust.

"Yes, we can trust them," he said. "I'm not sure, however, whether all of them will be interested in helping us." He sometimes got the feeling that Gómez and Teri, for instance, had become so frustrated with the wizarding world that they almost didn't care what happened to it anymore.

"Well, I will leave it to you to discuss the subject with them," said Dumbledore. "And then, I would quite like to meet Miss Merlot." His tone indicated clearly that the matter was closed.

That afternoon, the Centre staff met for tea and general discussion of school matters. Angela warned everyone that it was cold outside now – she could be so motherly – and Constance entertained them all with a vivid description of the cooking lesson on Friday afternoon. Apparently, what had been planned as an Irish stew had, in the end, looked like porridge and tasted of leather.

When they were all done laughing heartily at her imitation of Leonid Dimitroff's expression when he tasted the 'meal', Teri cleared her throat. "I wanted to ask you all a question," she said, in her usual brusque manner. "Has anyone heard rumours about You-Know-Who lately?"

An uneasy silence settled in the room. Teri looked around, and it seemed to Remus as though she was giving him a longer glance than the others. "It's just that Fridolina – the Charmer I work with – has heard from a few people that... well, he's supposed to be back."

Charlotte cleared her throat as well, and looked at Remus.

He nodded slowly. "Yes. He is back."

The reactions differed; Connie looked only mildly worried (she was a Muggle, after all, so she hadn't known what the first war had been like), Teri and Charlotte looked grim, but unsurprised; but Angela and Gómez were looking positively alarmed.

"Are you sure?" asked Gómez in a low voice.

"Yes. That is, if you trust Harry Potter to tell the truth."

"Are you – in contact with Harry Potter?" asked Angela, sounding amazed.

"Indirectly," said Remus. "I taught him at Hogwarts. He saw Voldemort at the end of the last school year."

The others had gasped simultaneously when Remus had said the name, but he ignored it. "He is back, and it looks like he's currently assembling old and recruiting new followers," he continued. "The Minister of Magic, however, refused to believe Harry's story, and we – I mean, I'm quite sure that he's forcing the _Daily Prophet_ to keep quiet about all unusual happenings."

Gómez snorted. "Yes, that would be just like the Ministry."

They all nodded, frowning. Remus briefly considered telling them about the Order now – he had just almost done so – but somehow, he wanted to talk to Charlotte alone at first.

After dinner, he looked for her everywhere and finally found her in the garden, strolling along the path under the palms, her face set in a frown. Remus sighed to himself; things were starting out just like they had all those years ago: Even the most cheerful people were starting to become pensive.

When Charlotte saw him, she smiled, but it was a weary smile. "What dark times are we facing, Remus?"

He fell into a pace beside her. "I don't know. I keep wondering whether it will be as bad as last time. Then I tell myself that it might even get worse, and that scares me... I can't imagine anything worse."

"I know." She threw him a quick glance; it looked as though she wanted to ask him something, but then she seemed to think better of it.

"And this is where my question comes in," Remus said. "Well, it's more of a suggestion. I'm sure you've wondered where I went every Sunday morning?"

She laughed. "Oh, don't tell me you are finally going to solve that mystery!"

Yes, he had been right; she had never voiced it as Levine had, but had wondered just as much. "I'm sorry I haven't told you so far, but you'll understand why –" He broke off.

While walking, they had left the path and turned around a hedge near the cherry trees – and almost walked into Olivier and Nora.

Olivier and Nora, who broke apart and stared at Charlotte and Remus.

"P-professors..." stammered Olivier, looking extremely embarrassed. Nora only stared at them with wide eyes. She looked flushed and much healthier than usual.

"Nora, Olivier," Charlotte said, grinning widely. "Sorry for interrupting you."

"Don't... worry about it," Nora said, looking extremely awkward.

"We certainly didn't want to disturb," Remus said, fighting to keep a straight face. "Just make sure you're inside by nine."

They nodded, and gaped at their teachers, who strode away towards the strawberry field at a quick pace. They only stopped when a hedge of thick wild rose bushes was separating them from the two students.

"Oh my God!" Charlotte said, in a low voice that was tense with excitement. "I can't believe he finally did it!"

"Yes, it seemed like they would never get there," Remus agreed, and they grinned. "Thank God. Maybe now we will be able to get a sensible word out of Olivier in class."

"You've got to be joking – this will be worse!" Charlotte laughed out loud, then put her hand to her mouth and continued in a low voice again. "Ha! Just wait until all the others find out. Anyway, you wanted to tell me something? Oh yes, the Sunday mystery!"

Remus shook his head, smiling. "Not to be easily distracted, I see. Well..." He paused. "I go to Hogwarts every Sunday for a secret meeting with Professor Dumbledore and others who want to work against Voldemort."

Charlotte flinched, then raised her eyebrows at him in amazement. "Well, I can see why you haven't told me so far. Did our conversation this afternoon inspire you to do so, then?"

"Well, incidentally, we just talked about it this morning as well," replied Remus. "About me proposing to you and the others to join, that is."

Charlotte nodded at once. "Absolutely. I'm in."

He laughed. "I'm not surprised." He quickly grew serious again. "For the moment, I'd like to keep this between the two of us; you can come with me next weekend, and we can inform the others later."

He had considered not taking her to the meeting at all, but working instead as a contact person between his colleagues and the Order; that way, he would have avoided explaining Sirius and Snape. But Charlotte, he knew, needed to see the Order with her own eyes, and Dumbledore had expressly wished to meet her. Who was he to argue with Dumbledore?

She nodded again. "Agreed."

"How I wish all of the people we cooperate with were as uncomplicated as you," he sighed.

The Thursday of the next week, after his Care of Magical Creatures Class – they had studied Mokes and their mating habits, which had greatly amused and embarrassed the students at the same time – Olivier hung back in the garden with Remus while everyone was going inside for their afternoon study group.

Remus cleaned the Moke cage and listened to Olivier shuffling his feet and clearing his throat several times before he looked up and smiled.

"You wanted a word, Olivier?"

He had never seen the boy look more awkward; he was still shuffling his feet and biting his lower lip. The expression on his face was anxious, but at the same time determined – he seemed to have made up his mind to talk to Remus, however embarrassing it was for him.

"I... uhh... wanted to ask you something, but – er – it's probably a very personal question..."

Remus, wary but intrigued, waited as the boy ummmed and ahhhed for a while, and then decided to relieve him of the awkwardness of introducing the subject.

"Congratulations," said Remus.

Olivier stared, then quickly regained composure. "Um, thanks." He grinned. "That's what I wanted to talk about, actually."

Of course you do. I doubt that you talk or think of much else at the moment.

"It's, umm, a bit early, but I wanted to ask, well..." And there he was again, unable to construct a full sentence. Well, it wasn't as though he hadn't been like that ever since Remus had met him; but then, as far as he knew, Olivier had been madly in love with Nora for a long, long time.

While Olivier was still stammering, Remus quickly thought over what he had just heard. A bit early? Did that mean Olivier wanted to ask about ... but surely Charlotte would have talked to them about this before? He knew the woman, after all; she was almost never embarrassed. However, he would have to ask Olivier what exactly he wanted to know. Now that was new territory...

"Did you mean to ask – how things worked?" He allowed himself only the smallest of pauses, which Olivier wouldn't have picked up.

"Oh, no! No, no," said Olivier, sounding quite relieved that Remus had broached the subject, and that indeed, he would not need to hear the whole story again. "No, Professor Merlot told us some stuff, and I, uhh, read books. But..."

But it was something to do with that. Then why had Olivier come to him and not to Charlotte, who was obviously more at ease with a subject like this?

Unless...

"I actually wanted to ask whether it was any different for werewolves," Olivier finally blurted out, and Remus drew in a short breath.

Oh.

"I see." He cleared his throat. "Well, I wouldn't exactly know the difference, since I was far too young when I received the bite..." He trailed off. How to put this? "I have... heard, however, that there is a slight... difference... but not, well, in the way things work." He had to smile at himself. _Bloody useful grown-up you are..._

Olivier raised his eyebrows. "I'm not sure I understand."

Of course not. It would help if you were a bit clearer about this, Remus. But he realized that he couldn't possibly go into more detail without greatly embarrassing the poor boy – and himself.

__

"Nothing to worry about. You'll find out yourself, I believe."

Olivier took a sharp breath – doubtless he was thinking of the moment he would find out. "Err, all right. Thanks a lot, Professor!"

And as though he had been sitting on a handful of porcupine quills, he hurried out of the classroom.

Remus let out a deep breath.

They barely exchanged three words while walking through the gates towards Hogwarts. Charlotte seemed too impressed for words, and Remus was filled with that solemn nostalgia that always overcame him when he saw the castle. He came here regularly now, but he never managed to walk through these gates without being overwhelmed by memories, as many happy as sad ones.

He felt Charlotte's curious gaze on him, and forced himself to turn away from the past to look at her.

"Will I be seeing your friends from school?" she asked, and Remus remembered how much all of Middleton Manor knew about his past, after the children had coerced it out of him on his very first day at the school, and had then told it to everyone else.

There was one moment's hesitation in which he wondered whether he wanted even to mention Lily and James. Sometimes it was hard to bear other people's pity. But this was Charlotte.

"No, only one of them is left, and he's not in the country." That wasn't even a lie, as Sirius was currently hiding somewhere in Wales.

Charlotte nodded, giving him neither a pitiful gaze nor a pat on the arm, and Remus smiled to himself; he had been right.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, so they held the Order meeting later than usual, most of the students being safely out of the castle. Finally having an official reason to visit the castle, Remus gave Charlotte a quick tour, meeting several students on the way. (Their enthusiasm at seeing him embarrassed Remus and amused Charlotte, who told him that she had expected nothing less.)

Finally, at her request, he saw her down to the dungeons to have a look at the Potions classroom. He desperately hoped that they could avoid meeting Snape, since the latter was not coming to the meeting because of Charlotte. Not that Remus couldn't deal with the man, but somehow... yes, he supposed it was the fact that he didn't want Charlotte to take any bad image of Hogwarts with her.

Unfortunately, Snape seemed to be possessive about his classroom. When Charlotte was just inspecting some of the most disgusting-looking jars in the glass shelves, the door gave a creak, and Remus sighed to himself.

"_Professor_ Lupin," said Snape's soft, silky voice, dripping with the contempt he normally reserved for Sirius. Remus turned around, his face composed.

"Hello, Severus," he greeted. "May I present Charlotte Merlot, the Headmistress at my new school? Charlotte, your Potions colleague, Severus Snape."

Charlotte, whatever doubts she had, seemed determined to be friendly – as she always was, really. She stepped forward, her hand outstretched. "It's nice to meet you, Professor Snape. You're quite a celebrity in the milieu, as I'm sure you know."

Snape gave her a sour look, indicating that he didn't care for such a shallow thing as fame (although Remus knew better), but he shook Charlotte's hand nonetheless. "Professor Merlot," he said. That, however, was all the conversation he seemed to feel inclined to make.

Charlotte didn't give up so easily. "I've read all your articles on Oriental Potions," she continued, and Remus couldn't suppress a smile. Somehow, he had never been able to imagine Snape as an author.

Snape was now looking as pleased as was possible on a constantly frowning, bitter-looking face. "The one on the Fakiria Potion is rather outdated, I'm afraid," he said, ignoring Remus' obvious amusement.

"Not at all," assured Charlotte. "I've read a few more recent studies on the matter, but they haven't resulted in anything new. I still use your article on the Dholija Draught as a reference in class."

Snape nodded his acknowledgement, and Remus silently congratulated Charlotte. Maybe he should have tried to overcome his aversion to the subject long ago in order to bond with Snape a bit better, he thought, and smiled again.

"I also believe," Charlotte was saying, "that you're one of the only people who have continually managed to make the Wolfsbane Potion without encountering any of its unfortunate side effects."

Remus' heart sank as quickly as Snape's face.

"Indeed," said Snape, now quite coldly. "However, I gave up on this particular ... hobby ... when I realized that the actual effects of lycanthropy –" he glanced at Remus – "cannot be dissimulated by any kind of potion."

Remus, his eyes never leaving Snape's, felt Charlotte stiffen beside him. "And what would those be?" he asked, faking a student's naive curiosity.

"The inner darkness and irresponsibility, of course," Snape sneered, and turning back to Charlotte, he said, "You might soon find your new teacher to be somewhat careless as to his students' health when it comes to personal matters."

Well, ouch.

Because the worst thing was that Snape was right. Remus _had_ been careless that night, and things could have gone horribly wrong.

"I sincerely doubt that," he heard Charlotte say. "In fact, I find Remus to be the most responsible, caring person I have ever met."

Snape snorted. "Good luck."

"Thank you." Her tone now quite matched his in coldness.

"Who knows, he might treat _his kind _differently," Snape continued, as though talking to himself. "And perhaps their passing would not be such a great loss to the world."

Remus could now almost hear her teeth grit together, but Charlotte didn't explode. Instead, she turned to him and said lightly, "Let's go, Remus. I'm bored with this man."

"I can't blame you," he answered, smiling.

"Also, I've learned a valuable lesson today," she said, as they were on their way out, feeling Snape's glare in the back of their heads. "Academic intellect and fame alone don't make a good person."

"How right you are," Remus said just as Snape slammed the door behind them.

They had made it as far as the third floor before Charlotte collapsed against a wall, growling furiously.

"I don't _believe_ him!"

Remus leaned against the wall next to her, surprised to find that he was quite amused. After all, he had expected nothing else from Snape. Charlotte, however...

"I don't believe _you_," he said, smiling. "I had fully expected you to jump at his throat – isn't that your usual method of dealing with people?"

Charlotte looked at him for a second, stunned, then burst out laughing. "Really, Remus! Aren't I at least a bit more restrained than that?" Seeing his doubtful expression, she laughed again. "Ah well, I suppose you've been rubbing off on me. Damn you."

"Glad to hear it." Remus grinned and checked his watch. "We still have a bit of time, would you like to see Gryffindor House?"

"That was your House, right?" He nodded, and she looked at him thoughtfully. "I can see why."

She left him to ponder this comment as they strode along the corridors to the Gryffindor common room.

"Well, look who it is!" shrieked the Fat Lady. "Remus Lupin, the silent prankster!"

"Firelight Fairies," he said, reciting the password Dumbledore had given him, and tried to ignore Charlotte's giggling.

"That _also_ fits you," she commented, as they stepped in. "Ah, everyone seems to have gone to –" she broke off when she spotted something that Remus had seen the very moment they had entered. He would have recognized that hair anywhere.

"Hello, Harry," he said, as the boy turned his chair around and stood up. "Why aren't you in Hogsmeade?"

"Didn't feel like going," Harry said, and Remus suddenly realized how tired his former student looked. "Hi, Professor Lupin. What are you doing at Hogwarts?"

Remus smiled, seeing Harry's curious, but half-knowing look. Even though Sirius always emphasized how young his godson still was, he couldn't help filling the boy in on a lot of information that was classified as secret.

"Showing my new boss around," replied Remus. "Charlotte, this is Harry Potter; Harry, this is Charlotte Merlot, Headmistress of the Centre –"

"- for Lycanthropic Children," Harry finished and shook Charlotte's hand. "Nice to meet you, Professor Merlot."

"Don't tell me you've heard of us?" asked Charlotte, sounding quite delighted.

"Oh, my friend Hermione told me," Harry said. And Sirius, Remus added quietly. "And she has a subscription to the _Daily Prophet_, so we also read that, er ... unfortunate article a while ago." He frowned. "I hope you don't listen to them, they always write rubbish about me."

Charlotte smiled. "I didn't know you were friends with Hermione. I've known her since she was a little baby."

Harry nodded – Hermione must have told him all about it – and fell silent again. Remus noticed the dark rings under his eyes; it didn't look like he had been sleeping too well. He sighed inwardly.

"Well, we need to get going," he said, badly wanting to talk to Harry a bit longer, but seeing that he was making him uncomfortable. He made a mental note to ask Sirius how Harry had been dealing with Cedric's death and Voldemort's rise; or perhaps he should write Harry a letter himself.

"Yes, they'll be waiting back at the school," Charlotte said, and Remus smiled as Harry raised his eyebrows in half-amusement.

"Is Snuffles coming to the meeting?" he asked Remus. "I haven't heard from him in a few weeks."

"No, he's out of the country," Remus replied. "And perhaps that's even better, seeing how shy he's always been around new people." He nodded towards Charlotte.

Harry snorted. "Right."

"'Snuffles'?" asked Charlotte when they were climbing the stairs to Dumbledore's office. "That would be your mysterious friend?"

He was spared from having to answer when the door to the office was flung wide open, and Mundungus Fletcher almost bumped into them.

"Lupin!" exclaimed the short, round man. "I was hoping not to see you today; I've had a bad day's start, and it's just getting worse."

"I know the concept of reliability is unfamiliar to you, Fletcher," replied Remus, "but I come here whenever I can. Unlike some people, who only seem to be able to come to meetings when that doesn't involve getting up at eight."

"Charming, the man," commented Fletcher, in Charlotte's direction, who was looking as though she wasn't sure whether to be amused or not. "Mundungus Fletcher, and you'll have to excuse me for a moment, I have to have a word with Snape."

Remus gritted his teeth. Typical for Fletcher; completely careless. He _knew _why Snape wasn't at the meeting; he knew it was because of Charlotte. And yet, he could never keep his mouth shut.

"What business does he have with Snape?" Charlotte asked as they were entering the office.

"Oh, they're old school friends," Remus replied. At least he could have a private go at Fletcher...

"Really? How odd. Mr. Fletcher seems nice enough."

Remus grinned.

"Ah, Professor Merlot," Dumbledore greeted her.

He spoke French, of course; Remus reminded himself that Dumbledore was said to be very talented at languages. He was one of the few people Remus knew who pronounced the name correctly. Charlotte told him so, of course, and the creases around Dumbledore's eyes deepened as he smiled.

While Charlotte and Dumbledore were exchanging polite words of greeting, Remus saw the other members of the Order studying Charlotte with some interest – and to his horror, he thought he saw a satisfied smile on Molly's face after she had looked from Charlotte to Remus and back.

He sighed inwardly. It looked like Molly was at it again. It would be a change for her to be right about her matchmaking suspicions for once.

"Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix," said Dumbledore.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Thanks to __Cas__, Livia Liana and Zsenya – what would I do without you? And thanks to everyone who's been reviewing – what would I... well, you know.   
Some comments on previous chapters 'inspire' me to repeat what I've said before: This is an AU, guys. This fic does not follow OoP. I took the decision not because I don't like OoP, but because I started this fic before the book got released, and some things just don't work with it. But it's actually not that important – this fic is about Remus, not about Voldemort or Harry, so don't expect any OoP-rewriting in the sense of "This is what should have happened!" ;)  
And since this A/N is already so long, what does another comment matter? So here it is: Readers curious about Connie&Steve should read my companion piece, "Charlotte's Choice"._

Chapter Ten

"Christmas will be very quiet this year," said Charlotte, looking at her colleagues seated around the staff room fire one December night.

"Robert, Philip, Christopher, Aimée, Tinh, Felix, Leonid, Karolka, Joseph, Sofie, Samuel," Connie rattled off, and Remus knew that these children had parents or other relatives to go home to.

"Yes, and Rachel is going with Karolka this year," said Charlotte.

"Why isn't Anne-Laure going with them too?" Angela inquired. "I thought those three were inseparable."

"They are," smiled Charlotte. "But Anne-Laure got a letter from her mother not too long ago – that was the first time she wrote to her, you know – and Madame Dauphin said she might be able to visit us over the holidays."

So that had been in the letter, too, Remus thought, surprised. It had been obvious how much Mme Dauphin loved her daughter, but she hadn't seemed very daring to Remus. He wasn't sorry to have misjudged her.

"As for the Kolnikov brothers," Charlotte continued, as she pulled a piece of parchment out of her pocket, "I received this letter this morning. It's from their aunt asking for my permission to take them to Moscow for Christmas."

Remus frowned. "Has this aunt ever contacted them or you before?"

Charlotte shook her head, and he could see the uneasiness he felt reflected on her face. "No. She claims she didn't know they survived in the attack."

The attack. "When they were bitten?"

Charlotte nodded, but Gómez was the one who answered. "They lived with their parents in the country, some fifty miles east of Moscow. According to the Muggle police, one night a thief entered their home, killed the parents and injured the two boys. However, we are quite sure..."

"That it was a werewolf." Remus sighed. "How did you find them? And how did they survive the attack in the first place?" Charlotte had told him a few of the children's stories, but – as it occurred to him now – she had never got round to telling him about everyone.

"They lived in the woods close to a Muggle village. We followed police reports describing unusual monthly happenings, which the Russian Ministry of Magic identified as – I quote – 'lycanthropic activity'. It wasn't hard to convince them to let us take the boys out of the country." Gómez was telling the story in his usual half-detached, half-scornful manner, but the reproachful tone he had adopted in the beginning when talking to Remus was gone. "And we think they survived because their parents protected them. Maybe they injured the werewolf."

Remus swallowed, a heavy weight suddenly on his chest. Parents who had died to keep their children alive...

"So what do the boys say?" asked Angela into the silence. "Do they want to go?"

"Yes, they do." Charlotte shrugged. "I asked them earlier today, and they were surprised as well, but they seem very eager to get in contact with family members. I can't blame them."

"At least the full moon was only three days ago," said Remus, absent-mindedly rubbing a sore shoulder. "She might not have known how to deal with it."

"Actually, she didn't sound too unnerved by the prospect," replied Charlotte. "It was the first thing she asked, though."

"Well, that's even for the better!" cried Connie enthusiastically. Gómez gave her a dark look; he had never been able to comprehend her optimistic nature and, Remus suspected, found it rather annoying. Remus, however, was quite glad Connie was like this.

"So that's that," said Charlotte. "This is why there will only be seven children with us at Christmas, and_ that's_ why –" She made a dramatic pause, pulling another letter out of her pocket. "We're going to the north of Scotland to have a real, snowy Christmas."

Gómez looked just as puzzled as Remus. "Where are we staying?"

"Oh, in a house my mother inherited a while ago," Charlotte said, suddenly looking extremely embarrassed. "It's never used, but the house-elf should have kept things tidy."

"Wait a minute," said Gómez, and there was actually a small smile playing around his lips. "Your mother owns a house in Scotland, and she's letting you use it?"

Charlotte replied with the same sardonic smile. "Yes, I don't know what's got into her lately. She even sent me a postcard the other day."

Gómez snorted, but Remus noticed that neither of the women looked very amused. He himself didn't know what to think; he didn't know much about Charlotte's relationship with her parents, but from the few hints she had dropped, they had neither approved of her leaving France nor of her decision to care for werewolf children.

"So," Charlotte said, a little too briskly – she never stayed on the subject for long – "Who's coming? Angela? Connie?"

Angela suddenly smiled wickedly, while Connie looked somehow uncomfortable.

"_I'm_ coming," Angela said. "But I think Connie's been invited elsewhere."

Connie shot her an extremely ugly look, one that Remus had never seen on her – but then, he had often found that women could be quite different among themselves.

Charlotte looked at Connie, her whole face a question, and Connie sighed. But it didn't sound at all unhappy.

"I've been invited by Steve's parents," she said rather shyly.

"WHAT?" shouted Charlotte and jumped from her chair, causing them all to shrink back in alarm. Her outburts were often unpredictable.

"_Connie!_" Charlotte looked as though she was battling with herself whether to be outraged or extremely pleased. "When? How? Why didn't you TELL me?"

"You were busy." Connie smiled. "Oh, come on, you can stop looking daggers at me. It happened not long ago, and I was going to tell you one of these days."

Charlotte snorted disbelievingly, but her rage seemed to have evaporated (as it always did). "Connie, that is wonderful." She grinned and sat back down. "And about bloody time."

Remus had no idea who Steve could be, but he still felt happy for Connie. She had always struck him as an extremely likeable person, and somehow he had always had the impression that her thoughts were with somebody else most of the time.

"So how about you? Teri? Pablo?" Charlotte asked the two, who were sitting in their usual corner.

Gómez nodded, but Teri shook her head, looking unusually timid. "No, I'm spending Christmas with my nephew and his grandmother." She stole a quick glance at Remus, and he smiled at her.

* * *

"No way, Sirius. It's too dangerous." 

"Dumbledore said it could work if we're really careful."

"Dumbledore! Dumbledore... he has his mind elsewhere at the moment." Remus sighed. He didn't even know why he was getting so angry. Perhaps because Sirius had always had a knack for dangerous ideas.

Sirius grinned from inside the fire. "Yes, sure. Dumbledore is distracted, and Remus Lupin always has a complete overview over the situation. Hmm, why does that sound wrong?"

"Oh shut up." Remus shifted closer to the fire, holding up his hands to warm them. "Sirius, you know the facts. Peter knows you're an Animagus, obviously, and if they see a large dog in my company – look, I bet Malfoy has even managed to spread the word at the Ministry. I don't think Voldemort cares whether it's him who catches you, or the Aurors."

"I realize that. What, do you think I'm not paranoid enough already?" Sirius made a face. "Fine, if you want to talk about facts – a fact is also that we haven't seen each other, really seen each other, since the start of the school year. And it's Christmas and all."

"And seeing me in black and white most of the time will qualify as really seeing me?"

"Hey, it's better than nothing."

Remus shook his head. "Padfoot, I want to see you too. But how am I going to explain about the dog? I just happen to have this dog of enormous size – and of enormous independence, since he's lived alone for four months?"

Sirius smiled. "Well, he's very well trained," he said, and added when Remus sighed impatiently, "Look, Moony, those are not real reasons. You'll tell them I stayed with somebody else, I'll arrive there in the middle of the night, and no Auror will ever know I was there. I don't suppose your students or colleagues have any intimate contacts to Ministry officials."

Remus rolled his eyes. At this point, he knew, it was better to give in than to object. When Sirius got into one of his stubborn moods, he was bound to be more careless. "Fine, if you insist..." And he did want to see him, after all.

Sirius smiled contentedly. "You were just against it because that means you have to get me a present."

"What, you think I'm worried about finding some bones for my dog?"

"See, we have to meet so I can punch you."

* * *

Anne-Laure's mother arrived just as Charlotte was in the middle of a loud rant against the Ministry, four days before Christmas. She stood there, holding her baby, both of them tiny compared to Sir Anthony who had escorted her into the staff room, and both looking on with wide eyes, while Charlotte was snarling furiously. 

"Not even a_ Portkey_! What _do_ they think I'm doing here, training them to become servants of You-Know-Who, preparing them to spend a nice and cosy Christmas with him, perhaps? Can you tell me why the hell they would prefer having seven young werewolves travel through all of Great Britain by train instead of authorizing a Portkey? I just don't _believe_ – oh, Mme Dauphin!"

She rushed forward, all rage forgotten, and kissed the other woman on both cheeks. "_Vous êtes là! C'est formidable!_"

And Remus suddenly realized that he would not be able to understand a word Anne-Laure's mother said. Somehow, he hadn't remembered about having used the Loquilingua Charm when they had met; Mme Dauphin apparently did not realize this either, because she addressed him with a very fast, very long speech, which Remus could only reply to with a lame "_Bonjour._"

Charlotte laughed, and after a French explanation, she turned to Remus. "She said that she's very sorry about the way her husband treated you, and that she's grateful you came, and that she's glad her daughter has such caring teachers."

Remus, feeling himself blush slightly, inclined his head. "_Merci, Madame._"

It turned out that Mme Dauphin spoke just as little English as he did French, but that didn't matter as she was here to see her daughter; so Charlotte took her downstairs. A few minutes later, Remus and his colleagues could hear a muffled squeal, followed by loud, excited talk.

"The dear girl," Charlotte said as she closed the door behind her back. "I don't think I've ever seen her this happy."

"Does her father know about this?" Gómez asked.

Charlotte shook her head. "No, Noémie told him she was visiting a friend in Aix. She's going back tonight, but she says she's planning to visit us very often now. Now, where were we?" Her face fell. "Oh yes. Well, we'll have to get train tickets. I suppose there should only be two of us to accompany them, as that will save us money. The other two can go ahead and prepare things."

"Make that one person," said Angela, who, next to her function as Matron, was also responsible for the school's finances. "I'll go with them, I'll manage to keep them in line. You, Pablo and Remus can Apparate directly."

Charlotte nodded. "Well, I'll go to Plymouth tonight then to buy the tickets. I wanted to go give Connie her present anyway."

Yes, presents. "I'll come with you," said Remus.

* * *

The tickets and presents had been bought, and Angela and the children had left early in the morning. They were taking the train to Bristol, catching a plane to Edinburgh, and taking the train from Edinburgh to their final destination. Not the most comfortable of itineraries, but it had been the cheapest and shortest. 

Remus, Gómez and Charlotte had Apparated into the – very impressive – house near Hogsmeade, and after a while Remus had left the two to preparations while he went to get his "dog". This meant, of course, that he couldn't Apparate back, so he had a few hours with Sirius. He had told them that "Snuffles" lived (very conveniently) with a friend in Hogsmeade; it was not too far from where they were, but it was still a walk of over two hours. Gómez had shaken his head and muttered something about the English and their strange ways; Charlotte had laughed and said that she liked a good walk through the snow, too.

Sirius had been in Hogsmeade for a week, and it seemed Harry had already visited him.

"So how is he?" Remus asked. They were walking through a forest of dark, closely-packed conifers, and Sirius had just taken on his human form again.

His friend shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know. I think he's slowly come to terms with Cedric's death, but all that pressure on him from all sides – not just from Voldemort, I mean. The whole Boy Who Lived thing, he's bound to crack at some point. There were moments where I thought he was going to start shouting at me."

Remus shook his head, his teeth set. "He's just too young..."

"And yet he's stronger than any boy his age I've ever known."

Remus nodded. As a teacher at Hogwarts, he had been astounded at Harry's resilience and strength of character, even though he had known what sort of persons his parents had been. Perhaps he had thought that all those years at the Dursleys had worn him out... no, he supposed the main reason for his surprise was very simple: He had still seen Harry as a little baby.

They continued in silence for a long while; the trees ended and Sirius turned back into a dog, running ahead of Remus, no doubt trying to shake off his worries. It was astonishing, if Remus thought about it, how very sincerely attached his friend had become to Harry. Sirius had always been very committed to his friends, of course, but that was on a different level somehow – he was actually taking on the role of a father, and although back in the days he and his friends would have laughed at the mere thought, Remus now thought it suited him rather well.

It was getting dark when they arrived at the house, and the noise coming from it told Remus that the children had arrived. An impression that was confirmed when he entered the house with Snuffles, and Jorge and Gabriel ran towards them at once. It was possibly the first time he saw these two behaving like young boys.

"Wow, that dog is enormous!" exclaimed Jorge, ruffling Sirius' fur – he didn't seem to be afraid at all of the dog's size. "What's his name? Where did you get him?"

"His name is Snuffles," Remus said, smiling amusedly as the other children started approaching the dog timidly and stroking it. Snuffles looked taken aback at first – it was a long time since he had been the centre of young attention – but quickly got used to it and started playing with them. "He came to my house one day, years ago. An example of the dog choosing the wizard, I suppose." The others laughed.

"Ah, that explains it," said Angela. "I was a bit surprised there at your choice. I had pictured you with a different kind of dog."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, something more... aristocratic." She grinned, and Snuffles barked – very clearly a laugh. Remus glared at both of them.

The two days until Christmas passed by in a blur. Remus hadn't felt so relaxed in a long time. They spent their time playing with the children and Snuffles in the snow, taking walks through the wild countryside, reading, and – not to forget – eating more than should be allowed. The house-elf (who seemed delighted that "Mistress Charlotte" was much more amiable than her mother; although any allusions in that direction were followed by self-punishment) cooked delicious meals, but it turned out that OIivier was a very good cook, too. His favourite subject was obviously Muggle Studies.

At night, when everyone had gone to bed, Remus let Sirius into his room, placed a Silencing Charm on the walls, and they talked through the whole night. Neither of them was getting any sleep, of course.

"Remember that Christmas..."

"... when James proposed to Lily? Of course."

"That was so _romantic_..."

"You were so jealous..."

"I was not jealous!" Sirius lifted himself up from the carpet to stare accusingly at Remus. Then he smiled ruefully. "Okay, I was maybe a bit afraid that things would change. And, yeah, maybe I reacted a bit childishly."

"It wasn't childish, it was just extremely stupid." Remus laughed out loud at Sirius' renewed glare. _"I don't understand why everything has to change, why do things have to change?"_ he wailed, in what he thought was a rather good imitation of Sirius' voice.

"Moony, shut up or I'll kick you."

"Always the man to respond with raw violence to something you don't like."

The violent man kicked him, and Remus laughed.

"So what do you think?" he asked, and Sirius understood what he meant at once.

"Oh, they're wonderful!" he exclaimed, and lay back down on the carpet. "The children are so nice, and I really like Charlotte and Angela. That Gómez person is a bit odd, but then you'd told me as much."

"Oh well." Remus rolled onto his stomach on the bed. "You get used to him, I suppose. He respects me more than he used to. We get along."

Sirius nodded.

"Anyway, aren't you glad I convinced you to come here?" asked Remus – and for the first time in years, he heard Sirius' loud, barking laugh again.

"Yes, Professor, it was one of your more ingenious ideas."

On Christmas Eve, the children, Remus and Charlotte spent the whole afternoon and evening building a massive snowman outside, who was riding on a broom and playing Quidditch; and who, of course, when he was done, required a snow-woman to keep him company. When this was accomplished, the children seemed to think it a good idea to make snowmen of each other, and Snuffles barked joyfully as students and teachers alike threw snowballs at each other.

When everyone had finally settled down around the fire (it had taken a while to pull Rachel off Jorge's back after he had slipped a snowball into her jumper), and all the children were equipped with a mug of hot chocolate, Charlotte took out a book and began reading them Christmas tales from various countries, wizarding and Muggle folklore alike. Finally, she put down the book, and Anne-Laure clasped her hands together.

"Oh, Professor, please tell us the story of the French frog!"

The children cheered, while Charlotte laughed and Gómez groaned. It seemed to be some sort of ritual.

"I'm sure you all know it by heart now!" Charlotte said, smiling wickedly.

"Yes, but nobody can tell it like you," said María Aciano eagerly. These Christmas story sessions must be one of the highlights of the year for her, Remus thought; she didn't normally speak up.

"All right," sighed Charlotte. She settled back in her chair, the book lying closed in her lap.

_"Once upon a time in ze land of Marianne," _she began, imitating a very strong French accent, and Anne-Laure started giggling. _"Zare leeved a beauteeful princess named Emilie. She 'ad everysing a French princess could dream of: Long, dark 'air, long, dark eyelashees, and long, dark rows of bottles in 'er wine cellar. Unfortunately, Emilie's parents were a shame to French royalty, because zey deedn't be'ave like a Roi and Reine ought to. Ze Roi spent most of 'is time in ze keetchen, cooking ze servant's meals because it was ze only sing zat made 'im 'appy. 'e made zem frog legs, frog 'eads, frog bellies, frog snouts, frog eye soup, and zair was also ze occasional escargot. And Emilie's muzzer toured around ze country singing chansons and earning money to support ze Roi's eccentric lifestyle. So one day, Emilie ran away. After a long, tiring walk of fifteen meenutes, she came to a fountain where zere sat a frog. 'Kiss me and I will become a beauteeful prince!' said ze frog. So Emilie leefted up ze frog and tried to kiss eet, but –"_

Charlotte paused, looking around. Most of the children were leaning back in their armchairs, shaking in silent laughter. Apparently, they really knew the story by heart; it looked as though they could hardly hold themselves back from blurting out the ending.

_"But in ze moment she lifted ze frog up to 'er mouss,"_ Charlotte continued, _"she was suddenly overwhelmed wiss ze delicious smell of it, and she swallowed ze frog 'ole. Zen she walked back to ze castle and became 'er fazzer's apprentice in ze keetchen. And zey cooked 'appily ever after."_

There was a loud thump, and Anne-Laure was lying half on the floor, half on Snuffles, holding her stomach, and the other children laughed even harder.

Remus chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "And you told me off for being prejudiced against the French?" he said, and Charlotte laughed.

"Ah, you see, there's the difference – I'm allowed to do this. I would be terribly offended if you told a similar story."

"Of course."

Charlotte looked round. The laughter was slowly ebbing away, and Anne-Laure was picking herself up. "So, anyone know another story? You're welcome to share them."

María Aciano coughed and looked down, and Remus saw Jorge Guerrera and Gabriel Hernández exchange a meaningful look. Finally, Jorge gave a very slight nod, and Gabriel cleared his throat.

"Under the circumstances, Jorge and I have decided to give one present early," he said, and standing up, he took a magazine he had been sitting on, and handed it solemnly to María. _"Feliz Navidad, Marieta."_

María looked puzzled at first, but when she looked at the magazine title, understanding dawned at once on her face, and she quickly looked back up at Gabriel. Remus, craning his neck along with everyone else, finally saw the title when María opened the magazine – _Witch Weekly, Special Christmas Edition._

María, surrounded by complete silence, had opened the magazine to a certain page, and having found what she was looking for, she gave a little squeal.

"I... I won!" she gasped.

"Yes," said Jorge, a proud little smile on his face that Remus had never seen before on the boy. "Your story won the contest, Marieta."

Remus exchanged a look with Charlotte, who shrugged – clearly, she hadn't been let in on the secret either.

"What kind of story is this, María?" he asked. He'd had no idea of this hobby of hers; but then, the shy eleven-year-old rarely exposed any of her thoughts, feelings or talents.

"It's a fairy-tale," she said in a small voice. "Karolka has a subscription to this, and she told me to participate in their children's writing contest. I didn't think it'd get printed at all, and then they wrote to me a few weeks ago asking me to proofread it, but..." she faltered and looked at the page again. "They didn't tell me I'd won."

"Well, that's not exactly true," said Gabriel, smiling mischievously, and pulled a letter out of his pocket. "You just didn't get that second letter."

"We thought it would be a nice surprise," added Jorge, and María smiled at them.

"That's wonderful, María!" exclaimed Charlotte. "Well... can we hear it?"

María blushed. "It's... it's not very good."

"María, you won the bloody contest," said Jorge exasperatedly, earning reprimands from all sides at once, which he waved away impatiently. "Of course it's good."

María took a deep breath and started to read, very fluently and with a lot of expression for her age – but then, Remus suspected that she knew the story by heart.

_"There once lived a girl who had everything she could dream of – beauty, wealth and many friends. Eliza was very happy, and she gave her money to the poor, always told her friends nice things, and never looked into the mirror. But she had a terrible secret, one that she knew would take all those things away from her if anyone ever found out. She had done many things to avoid anyone ever finding this out about her, because she feared that her friends might abandon her forever._

_Eliza was a witch._

_Well, half a witch, anyway. Her mother had been one, she knew – her father said she had died giving birth, but Eliza knew there must be something else he had never told her. How else could she explain all those strange things she did?_

_But Eliza liked life among normal people, and she never felt the urge to use her talent. However, when she grew older, she met a young, handsome man whom she grew to love very much, and she felt she could not marry him without telling him the truth about herself._

_So one day, she said to him, 'There is something I have to tell you.'_

_'What can it be, beautiful Eliza?' asked her fiancé. 'Whatever it is, it will never bring us apart.'_

_'It's a secret about my mother... and me,' she stammered, and he took her hands into his. 'Eliza, nothing could change my love for you.'_

_She looked into those brown eyes, and in that moment she believed him, and said, in a trembling voice, 'My mother is a witch.'_

_Whatever she had expected, it was not this: He took a step back and stared at her, as though seeing her for the first time. Then he started shouting and chased her out of the house. And so it was with everyone she came to, because they had all heard, and her oldest friends wanted nothing to do with her anymore. She pleaded and begged and tried to convince them that she was still Eliza, that nothing had changed. But it was no good. Her friends were scared of her, and her father chased her out of their home because he was scared, too._

_For days on end Eliza roamed around the country, trying to find work, a place to live; but word always seemed to travel faster than she did, and from every town she was chased, and the people yelled after her that she was lucky they didn't burn her alive. Finally, she was so tired that she sat down in a forest and cried bitterly._

_Suddenly there was a shimmering light in front of her, and she lifted her head to see a beautiful woman, surrounded by a warm glow, who was smiling down at her._

_'Do not cry, Eliza,' she said, and her voice was as soft as the rustling of leaves. 'I am a fairy, and I'm here to take you into my kingdom.'_

_Eliza sniffed. 'You don't hate me because I'm a witch?'_

_'Of course not,' said the fairy, smiling at her. 'You're Eliza. Beautiful, caring, gentle Eliza. Not some dangerous sorceress who is out to kill other people.'_

_'But why do they hate me so?' Eliza demanded, thinking of her fiancé, her friends... her own father._

_'Because they don't understand you. They will, one day, but until that day, you will live with me, and wait.' And the fairy took Eliza by the hand, and together they went to the fairy's kingdom, where Eliza lived happily ever after."_

Nobody spoke for a long while. Remus stole a look at Charlotte and saw that she was surreptitiously wiping her eyes. Snuffles walked slowly over to María and rested his head in her lap.

"Read what they wrote about you," Gabriel said in a husky voice, and María looked down again.

_"The first prize goes to one of our youngest contestants, Mary, age 11, who has written a beautiful and very intelligent story – her own version of how our ancestors had to fight against the Muggle prejudice. This unusual fairy-tale shows only too clearly the blind fear of something Muggles don't understand and automatically deem dangerous. Congratulations, Mary, for a very insightful (and, shall we say, grown-up?) tale."_

Gómez smiled with satisfaction. "Well, they got your message all right."

"I'm not so sure," María said, her eyes still on the page. "The review was written by Begonia Biggens. The woman who wrote that article."

Jorge and Gabriel exchanged an alarmed look. Clearly, they hadn't seen that part.

"Hypocrite," said Jun Li softly, and Jorge swore under his breath.

"But you've still written a very nice story," Nora said, in her usual calm voice. "And even if... that woman... completely missed what you were saying between the lines, others won't."

María looked slightly comforted, and Gabriel gave Nora a quietly thankful look.

"So what was the prize?" asked Olivier, who was sitting next to Nora, with his hand lying very inconspicuously next to her arm.

María gulped, stroking Snuffles absent-mindedly. Gabriel stood up and handed her the second letter, out of which María pulled a small bag. "Ten Galleons." She looked up, biting her lip. "I'm surprised they sent it to the school at all. I was wondering at first whether I should give them a different address, Karolka's mother's for example, so that they wouldn't completely ignore me."

An uneasy silence followed her words, which Nora broke first.

"So what are you going to do with the money? Save it? Buy books? Sweets?" She smiled. She had been smiling a lot more lately, Remus realized suddenly.

María blushed. "Actually, I wanted to give it to the school."

An even more profound silence settled around the room. Even the older children seemed to grasp the importance of this. Ten Galleons was a lot of money, especially for a child, and for María to give all of it away...

"Are you quite sure about this?" Gómez asked, and María nodded mutely. Remus, moved by María's display of loyalty and her very grown-up decision – he wasn't sure he would have done the same thing at eleven – looked again at Charlotte. She was sitting in her armchair, looking at María with an earnest expression, and suddenly she stood up, kissed the girl on both cheeks and hugged her very tightly.


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: I apologize for the long delay. I've been busy and not quite sure where the fic was going. Now I know (hooray!) and I am here to tell you that there will most likely be two more chapters after this one. Also, I have edited the first chapter. This should not be a cause of public consternation, as it concerned some minor things I was unhappy with, and the part about Remus' past (as readers with a very good long-term memory might gather from this chapter). Finally, thank you to my faithful betas, Cas, Livia and Zsenya! Happy reading!_

Chapter 11

Very rarely had Remus felt sorry for Severus Snape. Very rarely had Severus Snape given other people the occasion to feel sorry for him: because, naturally, pity was one of the things he despised the most. But when Remus saw the Potions teacher on the first Sunday after the Christmas holidays, he suddenly understood what a hard life the man led.

He didn't have any injuries, but it was clear how hurt and exhausted Snape felt by the way he moved, by the way he gritted his teeth while speaking, and by his hoarse voice. Apparently, Voldemort had indulged in a bit of torturing of all of his Death Eaters the night before, simply because they hadn't returned to him earlier. And apparently, Peter had stood by his side and laughed.

Remus shivered. He didn't know which thought was worse; that of Peter screaming under torture, or that of him laughing while others were tortured. Neither was in any way compatible with the Peter who had been his friend.

"Do you think he suspects you?" asked Dumbledore, handing Snape a cup of tea. The other man accepted it with trembling hands and Remus looked away quickly. He was sure that the worst part of it all was that Snape felt humiliated in front of the other Order members; perhaps especially in front of him.

"I don't think so, no, but I can never be sure," Snape replied. "He's made a few comments in that direction, since he knows about the evidence you gave. But I think he was just testing me. I've told him I was never a spy for you, that I was merely pretending to have seen the error of my ways."

"In any case, you must be very careful, Severus." The lines on Dumbledore's forehead deepened. He turned to the rest of the silent assembly (even Fletcher was looking worried about Snape). "I've no word from Hagrid yet, but I'm not surprised. The giants won't trust a half human so quickly. Remus, have you found a way to contact the werewolves yet?"

Remus shook his head. "No. The Werewolf Registry won't give me their names, whatever reason I give. I've been trying to find them through more unofficial ways now, by following rumours and hearsay, but it's a tedious process."

Molly looked up from her cup. "Why don't you ask Miss Merlot to help you?" She gave him a half-smile, and he knew exactly what she was thinking. How he wished she would stop. "Perhaps she could pretend that she needs to contact them for school matters."

Remus smiled wryly. "That's a good idea, actually."

* * *

"So did you get to see Snuffles today?" Charlotte asked as they were stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron later that day.

"What?" Remus' heart stopped for a split second, and he turned around. How did she know…?

Charlotte frowned, her expression not betraying any second thoughts. "You said he lived in Hogsmeade with a friend, I thought you might have stopped by after the meeting."

"Oh." He mentally cursed himself for reacting in such an obvious manner. "No, I didn't go there today, but I do every other Sunday."

"I love dogs. And yours is especially nice to children, I like that."

Remus smiled. "Yes, he's always been extremely fond of children, although the opposite's not always the case."

They had arrived at the telephone box that was the visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic. After stating their name and business, stepping out of the lift into the Entrance Hall and having their wands inspected (this time, the responsible wizard definitely knew Remus' name, and stared at him in a mixture of interest and repulsion), they proceeded to the lifts.

"How often have you been there?" asked Charlotte, as they waited in front of the lifts. Remus wasn't sure he wanted to talk about this in front of all the other people waiting with them; but then, if even he failed to talk about it normally, who ever would? Charlotte was right in approaching the matter so naturally.

"I try to avoid it." He sighed. "I can't stand those annual checks, but we also have to declare any long-term jobs, so last time I went there was when I was appointed teacher at Hogwarts. The jobs I had afterwards never exactly qualified as long-term, though, so I spared myself the annoyance."

At this, the elderly woman next to them, who had already looked once at the "teacher at Hogwarts", fixed Remus again with an interested stare.

"I didn't know you had to register jobs," said Charlotte. "That's awful. Must make you feel like you're not actually a free person."

"Well, well, Charlotte." Remus smiled. "Don't forget we're not even persons. We're just pets on a very loose leash."

"Bastards."

They travelled to the fourth floor in silence; the woman was still staring at them when they got off the lift.

When they had reached the door to the Werewolf Registry, however, Remus stopped short. He now fully remembered his last visit, and he had suddenly realized whom he had with him this time.

"Charlotte, I want you to promise me something." He fixed her with an earnest look.

But Charlotte smiled wickedly at him, and before he could say anything else, she prompted, in a very deep voice and a serious tone: "Don't jump at anyone's throat, Charlotte. Don't yell, don't throw any furniture, and don't say 'Bastards.'" She changed mimics, and turned into a sweet little girl. "Yes, sir."

Remus laughed. "I see we understand each other."

"Yes, sir."

They entered, Remus with his stomach twisting horribly as it always did when he came here. He was glad Charlotte was with him. Some part of him wanted to grab her arm for protection, but he resisted.

"Can I help you?"

A young woman Remus had never seen before sat at the counter in front of them. She must be new, he thought, judging by her smile. A rather wary half-smile, but a smile.

"Remus Lupin, and this is Charlotte Merlot."

"Oh." Miss Taylor, as it said on her name tag, looked quickly from one to the other; she obviously knew who both of them were. However, her smile still didn't fade completely. "How can I help you, Miss Merlot, Mr Lupin?"

Charlotte threw a quick glance at Remus, and he could see hope – and a change of plans.

"Miss Taylor, I'll be frank with you," she said, and Remus realized that she was now relying completely on her instincts. He hoped her instincts never deceived her. "I need new teachers for my school, but the Ministry is more or less ignoring my demands. As you know, I hired Mr Lupin here in September, and that gave me the idea to look for other adult werewolves. Not only would most of them be looking for a job, but they would also be ideally suited for teaching at my school."

This was not entirely true, of course – adult werewolves who had not been as privileged as him weren't very likely to be useful, balanced members of society. Remus felt a twinge of shame.

"So all I am asking for," Charlotte continued, "is for you to help me contact them. I just need their names and where they are. That's all."

Miss Taylor's smile had faded, and she was now looking considerably intimidated. "Perhaps you should discuss this with Mr Foddersworth…"

"Mr Foddersworth," said Charlotte, and Remus could clearly hear the disgust in her voice, "is not going to give me any information if he can help it."

"Then I don't see how I could." Miss Taylor shrugged, almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, Miss Merlot, but I have my –"

"Look," Remus cut in. "Nobody would have to know. This is entirely in your own hands. Do you think we are likely to run to your boss and tell him? Neither are any of the people we intend to contact. Please, we need your help."

Miss Taylor gulped, looking down at her hands twisting together. She must be in her early twenties, Remus assumed, and he wondered why she had chosen this job. Or had she been transferred here?

After a short while that seemed like an eternity, Miss Taylor cleared her throat. "Well," she said. "I do think the Centre for Lycanthropic Children is a good idea. I read the article the _Daily Prophet_ wrote about you –"

Charlotte gave a short, mirthless laugh. "You read that article, and you still think it's a good idea?"

Miss Taylor smiled, and this time it was an open, honest smile. "I've learned to read between the lines." She bit her lower lip, and finally she seemed to come to a decision. "All right. If you can promise me that nobody will ever find out I gave you this list…"

She went to a filing cabinet on the other end of the room, and after a few minutes of searching, took out a long roll of parchment, waved her wand over it, and handed them the copy.

"Thank you very much, Miss Taylor," Remus said, in as sincere a tone as he could muster. He still didn't like the Werewolf Registry, but this woman was a nice surprise.

She looked up at him, and there was a tinge of red in her cheeks. "You're welcome, Mr Lupin."

They were halfway through the door when a barely audible cough from the secretary called them back. "Er… there is something else I should give you," she said in a very low voice, still wearing the self-conscious look of someone who was breaking the law for the first time in their life – but she seemed to be getting used to it rather quickly.

"The _Daily Prophet_ sent these," she said, pulling a small stack of parchment out of a drawer. It seemed that she had been absolutely sure where it was, and Remus got the suspicion that she pulled it out of there several times a day.

"They're letters addressed to the Centre," she continued, "but the_ Prophet_ seemed to think we'd have, er, a better use for them." Looking around, she lowered her voice even more and added: "Mr Foddersworth thinks I've burnt them, actually."

Charlotte, taking the letters from Miss Taylor, looked slightly apprehensive. "Thank you."

"Oh, don't worry, they –" she stopped, suddenly, and they could hear footsteps approaching the door to Foddersworth's office. Miss Taylor made one frantic movement with her hand, and they hurried out, mouthing 'thank you' to her one more time, and Remus saw her blush as he smiled at her gratefully.

"That was nice of her," commented Charlotte, when they had reached a safe distance.

"Yes, very helpful," Remus replied, ignoring her tone. "Who would have thought? When I last came here, Foddersworth's secretary was a half-dead man who kept rasping about the different methods of killing werewolves."

Charlotte threw him a short, pained look; then she smiled again. "Well, this girl is really a stark contrast, then! Rather taken with werewolves, even…"

"I know exactly where you're going. Don't."

Charlotte grinned, and finally stopped her teasing. "Fancy a coffee in the city? I'd like to read those letters before we get back."

"Good idea."

They settled down in a comfortable café in a small street off Charing Cross Road. Remus was grateful they had come in Muggle clothing, as nothing would have been less anonymous than Diagon Alley right now. After a few minutes, very reluctantly, they set down their mugs, and Charlotte, having handed him half of the letters, started to read the first one aloud.

"_To Miss Merloue – _I'm going to kill those folks_ – and her staff: Thank you for the work you are doing to keep our neighbourhood safe. It is good to know that these werewolves are not running around attacking humans – _oh, bloody hell"

Remus sighed. "Go on."

" – _and I hope you have enough sense in you not to raise them as equal members of our society. They never will be, and they must not try to dissimulate their condition, thus endangering our children. _– I can't read this shit, Remus. Oh, hang on_ – Please do not take my words to mean that I don't consider these werewolves as children to be cared for; I do, but they are not normal, and you must not run the danger of making them believe otherwise. Sincerely yours, Pirithos Pitiful-Prick-Pallas."_

"Interesting name."

"What an idiot!" Charlotte exploded, as suddenly as loudly, and the couple next to them (who had been gazing into each other's eyes ever since they had come in) started. Charlotte didn't notice, or didn't care. "How many more bloody hypocrites does this world need? How many more Mr Pallas's who feel oh so compassionate when they are actually cold-hearted bastards?"

The couple next to them moved very discreetly to the other side of the café.

"I was beginning to feel disturbed by their utterly speechless adoration anyway," Remus commented in a casual tone, and he could feel Charlotte's wrath turning on him before she had even spoken.

"Remus, snap out of your distanced cynicism and get the hell involved," she snarled.

"Involved?" He raised an eyebrow, not caring that his tone had turned a shade cooler. "No-one could be more involved than me, I think."

"You know what I mean. Damn it, Remus, I know this is your defence mechanism, but it's also a very easy way out for a man who's actually much stronger than that."

He snorted. As if she had any idea how much strength there would be left… "Not that I don't appreciate the compliment, but how, exactly, is your way of dealing with things more productive than mine?"

She leaned back, frowning, and he knew that her rage had flown by once more. "It's productive in that I manage to let off steam, I guess. That way I can be ready for the next blow."

"Which you then react to in exactly the same way. Pablo is right, you know – you do get angry much too easily, and you waste your energy and your happiness for getting completely mad at situations and at people you just _cannot_ change."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Fine. And you give up much too easily and approach people with far too much suspicion and pride."

"Fine."

They laughed, suddenly.

"Next letter?"

"Your turn."

"_Dear Miss Merlot _– wow, they must have researched your name -_, please accept my heartfelt condolences for having had to work with the Daily Prophet. I have had the same misfortune a couple of times, and it has always been nothing short of a disaster. I do hope you know that there are members of the wizarding world who do not take a word that scandal rag writes seriously. So much for my introductory words..." _

"I like that person!" Charlotte exclaimed, looking suddenly wholeheartedly hopeful again, and Remus had to suppress a groan.

"_I was very interested to learn about the Centre for Lycanthropic Children; I had not been aware that this facility existed. I have been wanting to work with lycanthropes for quite some time now, but… well, let's say the Werewolf Support Services were always less than helpful. To get to the point: I have been studying the Wolfsbane Potion for some years past, and I would love to be allowed the occasion to test its effectiveness. And how satisfying it would be to combine an intellectual success with the joy of knowing I have helped the children in your care! – _Is it just me, or does this person sound a bit too enthusiastic?"

"You're too sceptical. Read on." She had moved forward and was now almost leaning across the table.

"_Please consider my offer and contact me at the following address – _etc etc_. I should add that I would be gratified to supply the ingredients until we manage to raise enough funds from those witches and wizards who understand how important this is. In the hope of hearing from your soon, I remain humbly yours, _etc etc_. PS. Miss Merlot, I found the article published in _Which Cauldron?_ describing your alternative approach to teaching Potions highly entertaining; the nowadays highly rigid and theoretical magical world needs more intuitive instructors like you, if I may say so."_

"Who _is_ this person?" Charlotte asked, sounding quite delighted.

"It's hard to decipher… hang on – oh, that rings a bell. Augustus Amselnest?"

"Augustus Amselnest!" she shouted, and Remus looked around quickly – but there was nobody left in the café, and the waitress was beginning to look sour. Charlotte noticed this time, and smiled apologetically. "Augustus Amselnest?" she repeated in a low tone.

"He's a celebrity of some sorts, isn't he?" Remus asked, wondering where he had read the name before. Probably in some textbook at school.

"He is the greatest Potions Master of our time!" Charlotte's voice had an awed tone to it that Remus had never heard in it before. "He must be around one hundred and fifty years old, and before him, his father was the uncontested ring leader, so-to-speak. They're a family of geniuses, Remus. Nobody knows where he lives, though, since he made his place Unplottable when he grew tired of all the fans lingering around…"

Remus was growing more and more amused. "Do you mean to say that there are people who worship Potions Masters?"

"Well," she said, and her cheeks were slightly flushed now, "he's come up with the most ingenious antidotes and medicine – he's helped lots of people. And his writing style is really funny."

"I can gather as much."

"I can't _believe_ Augustus Amselnest wants to _work_ with us!" Charlotte breathed. "And he read my _article_! Stop looking at me like that."

"Sorry, but it's too funny. I've never seen you as the type that admires celebrities, you know."

"Oh, don't be silly. He's a hundred and twenty years older than me."

"I've heard that many women like older men."

"True; Miss Taylor certainly seems to," Charlotte replied in a would-be casual tone, and Remus pretended to look shocked.

"I beg your pardon! I hope you're not equating our age difference with _yours_…"

At which Charlotte threw back her head and laughed; and the waitress who, Remus knew, had been on the verge of throwing them out, couldn't help smiling.

* * *

"What's the name?"

"Hildegard Pallas."

"Pallas? That rings a bell."

"Isn't that the name of some Ancient Greek witch?"

Remus gave Nora an approving look. "Very good memory! I don't think I knew all of their names at your age. Though bear in mind that we're not quite sure whether they were really wizards; it's just an assumption."

"True. Well, Olivier is a bit obsessed with Greek mythology, he keeps going on about it."

She gave a little cough and blushed, as she always did when mentioning her boyfriend, and Remus smiled to himself.

They crossed the street and came to a halt under a street sign, and Nora sighed exasperatedly. "Ah, I can't believe it… I've messed up again!"

Remus laughed. "That's fine, the weather is nice. Although we do need to do something about your sense of direction. We _could_ still use a Locating Charm…"

"Oh, give me a chance! So I haven't been to Bath for about five years – thank God – but I can still find my way around. After a while."

Remus was silent. Bath was one of the most beautiful cities he knew, but Nora had not been happy here as a child. He had been surprised that she had agreed to come along in the first place; he knew she was scared of running into someone she knew. But even though they had now been looking for Merwyn Street for half an hour (the hidden wizarding district was rather larger than Remus had expected) he was still grateful Nora had come along. He liked spending time with her, she was pleasant company – and it was very good to take one of the children along to one of these visits, as they had found out during the last few months.

Ever since they had obtained the werewolves' addresses from Miss Taylor at the Werewolf Registry back in January, Remus and the other teachers had been using their free time to contact, or rather try and contact them. Some of them, but fewer than Remus had expected, had slammed doors into their faces when hearing about the school and Voldemort; there were only a few who had reacted in a downright positive manner. But although Remus would have thought that those who had refused to even listen to them would be most likely to listen to the other side, it didn't seem like that now. These people were certainly disillusioned by the wizarding world and did not want to have anything to do with it anymore; but he was sure that they also denied their lycanthropy to themselves most of the time, and so would be unlikely to use it in Voldemort's service. No, those who had been wary and noncommittal would need watching the most, somehow – which would be hard, as they constituted the majority.

He sighed, watching Nora looking around, trying to orientate herself. At least things had looked up a bit ever since they had decided to take the children along to these visits; it had turned out that while Remus' presence hardly reassured adult werewolves, they reacted differently when confronted with younger versions of themselves. Remus had tried to point out to Charlotte that only a few of their students were suited for this, character-wise, but she had shaken her head and insisted that all of them would need to confront reality sooner or later. That having been said, Remus had noticed that neither María Aciano nor Aimée Martin had joined any of the visits yet. Even Charlotte, it seemed, was too worried about their delicate constitution.

"Oh, stupid!" Nora exclaimed suddenly. "_Now_ I know where we are…"

"That's the third time you've said that," Remus commented, catching up with her.

She gave him a half-glare. Everything about Nora was 'half', most of the time – half-glares, half-smiles, half-laughs. "Yes, but this time I'm really sure. This way."

They walked down an alley that had seemed much like Knockturn Alley as they walked past it, but suddenly changed to look like the Champs Enchantés when they entered it, and Remus had to keep himself from whistling a tune he had learned in French class many, many years ago.

"Professor Lupin?" she asked, after they had been walking down the impressive street for a while, gazing at the houses around them in awe.

"Nora?" He realized it was beginning to feel strange, her calling him by his last name; they felt so much like colleagues that he sometimes found it hard to draw the line.

"Have you noticed anything odd about Andrej and Nikolai lately?" Her tone was conversational, but he noticed her furtive look at him.

"I have," he said. "They've been even more quiet than usual since Christmas. Did they tell you anything about how their visit to Moscow went?"

She shrugged. "I asked them the other day, and they said it was good. But they still seemed really subdued."

Remus smiled quietly to himself; Nora really _was_ a born Alpha.

"I was wondering whether it was because they were confronted with their hometown and all those memories," she went on, and added, very quietly, "I can't blame them."

Remus resisted the urge to put an arm around her shoulder. "Yes, I was thinking that too. It's not very easy to come back to the town where you suffered so much. Especially in their case, I guess, considering their history…"

Nora nodded, and Remus wondered why he had never asked her what life had been like for her in Bath. Probably because it was so hard to gain her trust, and asking for information she usually kept private seemed like such a risk.

But Nora was also full of surprises.

"I'm glad we ended up at this part of the district," she said, still in that conversational tone. "I lived at the other part, over there." She waved a hand into the distance to their left.

"Whom did you live with?" Remus asked, feeling that it was safe to ask now.

"My grandmother, who was thankfully, er, rather forgetful, so she didn't often remember what I was." Nora breathed deeply and looked up into the darkening sky. "I guess that's why they sent me to her. She taught me at home, and most of the time she believed that it was because I'd never got along with my classmates. Then sometimes she would remember where I went every month – I went to the Ministry – and…" She gulped, then gave a short laugh. "Well, let's say it was always a nice moment when her eyes began to glaze over again."

"She never showed any sign of accepting it?" Remus asked, almost feeling physically ill thinking about how Nora had been mistreated by her family. She hadn't even mentioned her parents yet.

"Well, she's started writing to me lately, and I think filling out the address reminds her nicely every time what school exactly I am at. She never mentions it directly in her letters, of course, but it's pretty obvious."

"She does write to you. That's good."

Nora nodded.

"What about your parents?"

"What parents? Mr and Mrs Hartfield's daughter died seven years ago, that's what they tell everyone. Grandma told me, once."

This time, Remus did lay his hand on her shoulder, briefly. He was reminded of his visit to France, and being confronted with Anne-Laure's father who denied having a daughter at all. He couldn't imagine what it would be like, growing up with the knowledge that your parents hated you.

"What about you?" Nora asked, as they were walking into a street off the 'Champs Enchantés'. "If I may ask," she added quickly.

"Of course you may." He smiled. "I had very tolerant and loving parents, thankfully. They worked very hard to ensure that I led a comfortable life, for which I will be eternally grateful."

"What happened to them? I mean, are they –"

"Dead, yes. They died by the hands of one of Voldemort's Death Eaters many years ago." He felt a shadow of the old pain returning as he said it, and quickly buried it again.

"I'm sorry," Nora replied, and Remus suddenly noticed that she hadn't flinched at the sound of Voldemort's name. She had a few months ago, along with the other children, when Remus had told them about Voldemort's return. Like Dumbledore, he thought that you were never too young to hear about such things.

"Er, here we are," Nora said into a slightly awkward silence. "14a Merwyn Street, wasn't it?" They had stopped in front of a large, handsome house, and the letter-box read 'Pallas'.

"Nice place," Nora commented, her eyebrows raised. Remus nodded. The houses they had been to in the last few months had ranged from extremely shabby to moderately comfortable, but none of the people they had contacted lived in a house that could rival this. Remus thought of his own small cottage, and of the many years during which he had barely managed to pay the estate tax.

They rang the bell, and it took so long until it was answered that they had already turned to leave when the door opened, revealing a tall, exquisitely dressed lady in her fifties. She was wearing a thick layer of make-up, a lot of jewellery, a lot of curly blond hair tied into an enormous knot on the top of her head, and a distantly benevolent expression: in short, she was one of those women Remus and his friends had always made fun of as teenagers; those women who went to concerts by _The Philharmagic_ because they worshipped the first violinist, and who lingered around at the after-concert-parties, trying to make interesting conversation.

However, he wasn't so sure he had ever heard of a werewolf in those circles.

"Mrs Pallas?" he ventured, having no idea whether she was married or not, and still finding it hard to believe that this was the woman they were looking for.

She nodded, looking at them curiously. "How may I help you?"

"My name is Remus Lupin, and this is Nora Hartfield." Nora gave her friendliest smile, but Mrs Pallas' look hardened ever so slightly. She had heard of him, then.

"How may I help you, Mr Lupin?" she repeated, sounding nervous.

"We don't mean to intrude into your life, Mrs Pallas," he said, slightly annoyed at the phrase he had had to repeat a lot lately. "We would just like to tell you about our school, and to establish a sort of information network between –" He faltered here; it would surely be a bad idea to mention any word related to lycanthropy with the possibility of neighbours listening in. And considering the type of area they were in, this wasn't at all unlikely. "May we come in?"

She nodded and showed them inside. There was reluctance in her demeanour, but above all relief, Remus thought, and congratulated himself on judging her correctly. He wouldn't be at all surprised to find out that none of her neighbours knew that there was a werewolf living in their midst.

Mrs Pallas brought them tea – she hadn't accepted no for an answer – and sat down, straightened the folds in her dress for a minute, then looked up. "How did you find me, if I may ask?"

Now that her relief at being well out of neighbourly earshot had passed, she seemed anxious and very closed off. It looked as though only the good manners that were ingrained in her were keeping her from throwing them out again. _At least she's not denying what she is_, Remus thought. They had met a few people like that, too.

Admitting that they had found her through the Werewolf Registry would have cost Miss Taylor her job; many times already, they had avoided the full truth in case the respective person sent an angry owl to the Ministry. "We have a contact at the Ministry who managed to procure us the list of all the registered werewolves in the UK; the Werewolf Registry is not aware that we have this list. A slightly illegal procedure, but a necessary one, we felt."

Fortunately, even those who usually threw them out after a few minutes shared their profound dislike of the Ministry institution; Remus didn't know how someone in his and their position _could _have liked Foddersworth and his subordinates.

"But you are here incognito, I take it," Mrs Pallas went on, sounding very worried. Remus gave her a reassuring smile.

"Nobody knows we're here."

She nodded, and seemed slightly relaxed after this. "How can I help you, then? You said you wanted to talk about the school. Centre for Lycanthropic Children, was it? Are you a student there?" she addressed Nora, who looked slightly baffled. It seemed as though Mrs Pallas, even when intimidated, liked to have control over the conversation.

"Yes, I am," Nora confirmed. There are twenty-one students from all over the world, and we have five teachers. Oh, and if you read that article in the _Daily Prophet_, it twisted a lot of facts about us…"

"Oh, don't worry, dear, I never read the _Daily Prophet_, completely biased paper, if you ask me. I have a subscription to _Witch Weekly_. I did hear about the school from my friends at the Wizarding Chess Club, however…" Her expression darkened, and Remus knew his suspicion confirmed: her friends knew nothing about her lycanthropy, and had probably told the story in a manner that had deeply wounded Mrs Pallas. However, she quickly seemed to recover, and addressed Nora again. Still with reluctance, but with obvious interest at the same time.

"How do you manage… er… transformations, then? Do you have the Wolfsbane Potion?"

"We have it now," interjected Remus. "The Potions Master Augustus Amselnest has been providing it for us since January."

"Augustus Amselnest! How interesting!" Mrs Pallas exclaimed, and Remus thought with amusement that he would have to ask Charlotte whether she had a subscription to _Witch Weekly_ as well.

"Do you all go to the Ministry, then?" she continued.

Interesting. That meant she didn't…

"No, we transform together in an enclosed space at the school," said Nora.

Mrs Pallas leaned forward. "Together! That's wonderful." At their inquiring looks, she leaned back again and started stirring her tea vigorously, then muttered, almost to herself: "I go to my cousin's place in Greece every month. She… errr… is a werewolf as well."

"Your cousin?"

"Yes, she… she bit me." Mrs Pallas set her cup down. "It was an accident, I assure you…"

Remus smiled. "Mrs Pallas, I am not inquiring after your history, nor after your private life. We have merely come here to inform you about the school – and about other matters."

"Other… matters?" She got up to pour them more tea, only to see that they hadn't touched theirs, so she refilled her own cup and sat down again. It looked as though she needed to move around in order to cover her nervousness.

"Yes. I am afraid we must inform you that Lord Voldemort has returned to full power and is currently recruiting new followers." It was a good thing he had waited until she had sat down again, because she was now clutching her heart and staring at him out of wide eyes.

"It can't be true…" she whispered, and it looked like she had half a mind to faint. _Even if it was only for the dramatic effect._

"It is true. And he is especially keen on recruiting werewolves." Somehow, being confronted with people who were keen on beating around the bush and never called a cauldron a cauldron, always gave him the most sadistic desire to shake them out of their lethargy. Sometimes it even worked.

"Well, I am definitely never going to work for You-Know-Who, if that is what you are suggesting, Mr Lupin!" said Mrs Pallas, sounding quite outraged, and Remus actually believed her. _Even if it was only because she would never break rules _– but then, there was also something else about her, a distinct feeling he got that she was much more profound and sensitive than she pretended to be.

"I am glad to hear it."

"Are there… I mean, have you met people who would?"

"We fear there is a large potential there, yes. No-one has actually told us they were going to join him, of course. But there's a great… dissatisfaction, to put it mildly, with the way we are treated by the wizarding society…" Why was he telling her all this? Wasn't she just another disillusioned werewolf whom they would have to work hard to convince to help them?

But Hildegard Pallas set down her cup, put a strand of hair behind her ear and nodded slowly and thoughtfully. "That is why some of us try to get around all of this by avoiding exposure in the first place. It might seem strange to you, but the only ones who know about my – well, you know – are my family. Or ex-family, shall I say." And suddenly, to Remus's surprise, this strict-looking woman launched into a monologue about her life as a werewolf in hiding. Remus exchanged an astonished look with Nora – he could see that they had both underestimated this woman's openness, or perhaps her need to share her story with somebody.

"I must say," Remus said, when Mrs Pallas finally took a breath and emptied her third cup of tea, "that I'm quite impressed by your being able to keep it secret all these years – how long?"

"Twenty-three years, now." The woman shrugged and waved a vague hand around the room. "It's easier with all this, I suppose. People don't wonder why you don't have a job." She was speaking of her wealth as though it annoyed her, and Remus suppressed a slight feeling of disgust.

"Then, of course, Pirithos found out," Mrs Pallas continued. "My husband, you know. He had to find out one day, I suppose… we divorced and told nobody the real reason, and I was left with a lot of money I had inherited…" She trailed off. Her voice had almost broken on the last few words. But she was one of these persons, Remus knew, who hated showing any kind of weakness – it was a trait he was familiar with, though perhaps in another form.

Pride, Charlotte would have said, and she was right – the same pride that now held him back from pointing out the obvious. But when they finally said goodbye and she smiled at Nora for the first time, Remus got the inkling that they had not seen the last of Hildegard Pallas.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note (for 12 and 13): Here then is the end of the tale. My deepest gratitude goes out to Cas, Livia and Zsenya, and all the others who beta-ed at some point, who made this story so much better and taught me quite a few things about writing (and English!). Also, I would like to thank those faithful readers who have stayed with me until the end – I know it wasn't always easy, what with the infrequent updates (do I hear understatement?). I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it!_

Chapter 12

With hindsight, Remus knew when the warning bell should have rung in his head.

_Hindsight - what an entirely useless concept,_ he thought as he sat in his room weeks later, trying to make himself work, trying to keep his thoughts from straying to what was still unthinkable, even after so many weeks.

Ironically enough, it had begun with laughter.

He had been in the garden, teaching Care of Magical Creatures to the first group – Felix's group, as he privately called it, because the boy was the uncontested leader of these eleven students. He regularly cheered them up, spoke for and encouraged the shy ones, and generally helped to solve problems by producing the most creative solutions.

Felix – and Remus – still had their difficulties integrating Andrej and Nikolai Kolnikov into the small group, however, and all the other teachers said the same. They were very reserved and only seemed to confide in Leonid Dimitroff, who seemed to be continually torn between the brothers and his best friend, Felix.

"Professor … hehehe … Lupin," Felix was chuckling this Wednesday afternoon, floating a foot above the ground, holding his stomach. "Remind me … hehe … why we need Billywig stingers?"

The other children were laughing as much as he was, although they hadn't been stung by one of the two dozen Billywigs that were whirring around in the cage.

"They're an ingredient for the Wolfsbane Potion, in their dried form," Remus said, smiling. "Mr. Amselnest will be very grateful if we can provide some. Now hold still, Felix, this stinger is still useful if I can get it out…"

"Hold still, he says," Felix giggled. "Hold still! Have you ever tried holding still … hahaha … when you were floating around in the air having the time of your life?"

"Can't say the combination of both happens to me frequently," Remus replied, grabbing Felix's wrist. "Here, Leonid, take his other arm, and we'll try to keep him on the ground."

"You can't make me stop laughing if you say funny things," Felix said in one breath, then started laughing again.

"Oh, I'm not trying to make you stop laughing. I just want the stinger."

"Tee hee heeee… oh, my stomach," Felix groaned while the students laughed again. "How am I ever going to … hahaha … get down on the ground again? Didn't you … hehehe … say that I had to think of something serious?"

"Yes, but I really don't know whether the concept is familiar to you," Remus said, provoking another outburst of laughter. He gave the stinger one last careful pull. "Aha, here we go!" He put the stinger into a small box and into his pocket. "Now, let's tackle those other Billywigs."

"Professor … " giggled Felix, who was now floating a foot higher, and laughing more strongly than ever. "You can't just … hehehe … leave me up here …"

Remus looked up at him, pretending to consider the subject seriously. The children were having a lot of fun, and so was he; even the Kolnikov brothers were joining in the laughter. "I suppose you're right," he said, finally. "Who else will demonstrate a perfect _Rictusempra_ Charm in Professor Longbottom's classes in the future?"

Felix, rolling over in the air several times, was actually crying with mirth now. "Please, Professor, anyone, tell me something serious, and I promise … hahaha … I won't make a joke for a week…"

This made the students and Felix laugh even more, and Remus couldn't help chuckling as well. But, he supposed, something had to be done.

"Something serious…" he wondered aloud. "Imagine something bad happening to your grandmother?"

"Hahaha … she'll beat everyone up with her cane …"

"Imagine being eaten by a Flesh-Eating Slug," suggested Anne-Laure.

"Hohohahaha … nibble on my toes …"

"Imagine another Ministry inspection right now," offered Leonid.

"Hehehe … they'd write about werewolves having dangerous new powers …"

Remus knew he wouldn't have found it remotely funny under other circumstances, but Felix's tone and expression were just hilarious, and so he laughed along with everyone else.

"Imagine losing your sense of humour," said María.

"Hahahahaha…"

"María, he can't imagine the unimaginable," Remus commented, and she giggled.

"Imagine the school being closed," said Leonid, quietly.

THUMP.

There was silence for a moment as Felix slowly got up to look at all of them.

"Well, that was fairly easy," he said, finally, and they laughed.

When the invisible clock struck five, the students headed back to the house for an hour of supervised study; Charlotte and Gómez were the supervisors on Wednesdays, and Remus thought while he covered the Billywig cage that he might write to Hagrid before dinner, to ask about those horned toads the Gamekeeper had offered to provide. But when he passed the juniper bushes near the back entrance of the manor, he realized that not all students had gone back in.

The Kolnikov brothers were deep in conversation with Leonid Dimitroff, who was looking anxious. Before Remus could analyze their demeanour – did they mean to threaten, convince, confide, ask for help? – they spotted him, and stepped back. Leonid looked relieved.

"Anything wrong, boys?" Remus asked, and they shook their heads simultaneously. Andrej Kolnikov muttered something in Russian, and the brothers turned and went back towards the house. Remus approached Leonid, who hadn't moved.

"What is it, Leonid?" he addressed him carefully. The boy seemed almost close to tears, and Remus laid a hand on his shoulder. "What were you discussing just now?"

"It's – it's nothing, Professor." If Leonid had looked like he needed someone to talk to just the moment before, he now seemed very eager to run after the other boys. "We were talking, that's all…"

"I'm not going to pry into your personal issues with them, Leonid," Remus assured him. "But if they are threatening you, or making uncomfortable in any way, then I think you should tell someone."

Leonid gulped, then nodded, slowly. "I would. But it's fine, honestly."

Remus knew very well that it wasn't fine, but he had no intention of forcing the boy to talk. "My door is always open," he said. "Come to me whenever you need to talk, or to any of the other teachers if you prefer that."

"Thanks, Professor." Leonid looked relieved, but whether that was because of the offer, or because the conversation was over, Remus couldn't tell.

They walked back to the house in silence, and Leonid assumed his usual place at the dinner table between the Kolnikov brothers and Felix. Was Remus only imagining it, or was the dark-haired boy edging closer to his German friend? And were the brothers looking even more sullen and reserved than usual?

* * *

Incidents like this one became more frequent during the following weeks. Leonid seemed to have started avoiding both the Kolnikov brothers and Felix, which made Andrej and Nikolai, impossibly, even more unpleasant, and Felix extraordinarily quiet. The Kolnikovs seemed to seize every opportunity to try and talk to their compatriot, while he seemed to find excuses to avoid being around them. Remus talked about it to Charlotte, to Gómez and to Nora; they had noticed the same thing, but had so far been just as unsuccessful getting anything out of the involved parties. Nora wasn't worried, however.

"They've fought before," she said to Remus. "Nikolai has a really bad temper, and Leonid is very sensitive. They'll work it out on their own, I guess."

But that didn't explain, thought Remus, why Leonid seemed to avoid Felix, too. As far as he knew, the two boys had always been inseparable. Why the sudden awkwardness between them? Had something happened at Christmas when they had both stayed with Felix's grandmother in the Black Forest? It certainly looked as though Leonid had something worrying him, a matter he couldn't talk about to anyone, Remus thought one afternoon during the homework hours.

Leonid was bent over a book, chewing on a quill, and hadn't turned the page for half an hour; the Kolnikov brothers were muttering to each other whenever they thought no-one was looking, and Andrej cast a furtive glance at Leonid every now and then. Felix seemed to want to engage Leonid in conversation repeatedly, but always gave up whenever he saw his friend's closed expression.

After having watched this for a week, Remus took Felix aside after class one afternoon.

"Professor?" the boy asked, as friendly as ever, though slightly less cheerful – or was he imagining that, too?

"Felix, there is something that's been worrying me – us all, in fact – about Leonid's behaviour. Is something wrong with him that I could help with?"

The boy had turned almost imperceptibly paler, but he didn't quite abandon his cheerful expression. "He's been a bit down lately, I guess. I think… well…" he faltered.

"Did something happen at Christmas?" Remus ventured, and Felix gulped.

"Well nothing _happened_, precisely, it's just that… er…"

Remus nodded encouragingly.

"I think seeing my grandmother and me depressed him a bit, because, you know. His parents haven't even talked to him since he was bitten. Neither have mine, mind you, but I've got grandma…"

Remus nodded again. That made sense. Comparing his best friend's situation with his own was sure to bring a boy like Leonid down, even though he would be grateful that he was allowed to have a part of that comfort. Remus himself had always led a sheltered life at home, so he hadn't experienced this himself; but he knew Peter had. How often had he seen more than a hint of jealousy in Peter's eyes when they were all staying at James'… He abandoned that train of thought. It wouldn't do now to dwell on how much Peter's secret envy of his friends in their very first years had influenced his decisions after school.

"What about Andrej and Nikolai?" he asked, dragging himself back to the present with an effort.

"What about them?" Felix asked back, feigning ignorance. Remus sighed.

"I've seen them talking to him in urgent tones several times. It's not as though I could interpret Russian intonation, but…"

Felix shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. I think…" He grimaced. "I think they might be trying to convince him not to hang around with me anymore. Probably tell him I'm bad for him or something. But that's been there ever since we met."

Remus nodded, secretly impressed by the almost rational manner in which Felix was telling this. He wondered just how much quiet strength lay behind that cheerful, light-hearted exterior.

* * *

Remus and Charlotte considered Felix's explanation for a while, and it seemed to hold. Leonid was still avoiding the Kolnikovs weeks later, but it seemed he had got closer to Felix again.

On Easter Sunday, Remus and Gómez set off early to the Cornish coast. While Charlotte, Teri and Angela fed the children an enormous breakfast and prepared the picnic for later in the day, Remus and the Transfiguration teacher had the task of choosing an appropriate location for their field trip, and to prepare it for the Egg Hunt.

Like everything Charlotte organized, Easter was no ordinary holiday at the Centre for Lycanthropic Children. It started off with a huge breakfast with traditional Easter foods from all over the world; then, the children and most of the teachers would walk to the beach, which was several miles from the school. As Easter was always a few days after the full moon, this wasn't always possible, but this year they had all had three days to recover.

Finally, upon arriving at the beach, the children would start the Egg Hunt – which was, as Charlotte had said, "where the real fun starts". Charlotte had always taken the teaching philosophy of combining fun with educational value to its extreme, and so there was no question of merely hiding the eggs in impossible locations: they were Transfigured, hidden by Invisibility Spells and other shielding devices, placed in clearly visible locations, looking innocent, but guarded by a few nasty hexes; and other such extravagances. Remus found it refreshing, to say the least, to be able to revert to the prankster side of his personality, and he was quite surprised to find that Gómez enjoyed setting the traps as much as he did.

"What's this, then?" Gómez looked down at the large trench Remus had dug, in which a handful of eggs where lying peacefully. The Transfiguration teacher snorted. "Let me guess. A swamp?" Remus shook his head, now wearing a pleased smile himself. "A well? A grave?"

"Oh, please. I'm not as morbid as you by far."

"So much is true," replied Gómez, a smug smile on his face. "All right, you've got me there, Lupin. _Revelo formam!_" he chanted, pointing his wand at the eggs. Nothing happened. He sighed, looking at Remus. "I have to touch them, I assume?"

"If you wish." Remus smiled as Gómez knelt down and reached into the trench cautiously.

"_Jesús!_" The other man exclaimed and pulled back his hand, staring at the Fire-Crab that was trying to scuttle up the sand wall of the trench, but quickly gave up and turned back into an egg. Gómez healed the rash on his hand with a quick flick of his wand, then raised his eyebrows at Remus. "Transfiguration, combined with Disillusionment. Not bad."

"Thank you."

"Shall we create a swamp over there?"

"With pleasure."

They had just finished when they could hear faint voices approaching. As they grew louder, Remus could make out the song they were singing.

"_Here comes Peter Cottontail…"  
_

As he tried to push back the memories the song brought – it was almost turning into a routine exercise – he heard a single voice emerging to sing the verse. _I should have known_, he thought with a smile and stole a look at Gómez, who was smiling proudly as María sang:

"_He's got jelly beans for Nora  
Colored eggs for Olivier  
There's an orchid for Anne-Laure-a  
And an bonnet for Andrej. Oh!"_

And as they all joined in to sing the chorus, in voices rich with laughter, the first few students appeared on the sand dune, waving enthusiastically, and the vague ache in Remus' throat vanished at once.

"We're here! We've arrived!"

Cheering ensued, and the children scrambled over the dune quickly and assembled in the large round space that had been visibly marked as danger-free zone. Charlotte and Teri arrived last, both looking healthy and thoroughly relaxed; Remus had thought that keeping twenty-one children in check and interested during a walk over five miles would have been difficult, but it seemed he had underestimated their love of fresh air.

"Egg Hunt!" declared Felix, earning himself a disapproving glance and a tut from the school Matron.

"Patience, oh wild one," said Angela in her usual dry tone. "You may feel up to it, but some of your friends need a bit of rest."

Felix sulked, but quickly gave in as they all settled on an enormous blanket Teri had conjured. After another half hour, even the more delicate children looked desperate to start exploring the inlet, and after a nod from Angela, Gómez proclaimed the start of the Hunting Season.

At school, Remus had always loved to linger around after a prank, to enjoy the full effect, watch as chaos slowly took its course. Fortunately, James' Invisibility Cloak had always enabled him to do so; that is, unless one of the other three were using it to spread the chaos. Now, he wandered around, fully enjoying the sight of his students struggling with the magical barriers – and Charlotte trying to guess what had been whose invention.

"That buoy over there with the rabbit ears," she said as they carefully made their way through all the obstacles. "Remus Lupin, you are officially insane."

"Please be quiet. I don't think anyone has seen it yet."

"Which of the two things I mentioned?"

"Both, obviously."

In the late afternoon, a chill set in, and they all huddled around the huge fire which Felix had made them jump over earlier – tradition, apparently. As they were sharing eggs, other food and Easter stories, Karolka Wyszinski told them about the resurrection of Christ, and about the huge Easter celebrations that were traditional in Poland. There was a wistful look in her eye; apparently this was the first Easter she spent in England.

"How is it in Russia, is it similar?" she asked, turning to Andrej and Nikolai, and Leonid who was sitting a bit further away. Remus was quite sure she would know about the traditions in Poland's neighbouring country; but she often took on the role of second Alpha, and he knew Nora appreciated it.

Andrej grumbled something non-committal, while his brother pulled a face. "How are we supposed to know? Ask him, he's got family over there." He jabbed a finger at Leonid, who frowned.

"You've got your aunt," he ventured, and Nikolai threw him a sharp glance.

That look would haunt Remus for a long time.

At that time, however, he simply recognized an uneasy feeling in his stomach and ascribed it to the awkwardness that had settled around the fire, which only gradually loosened as soon as Leonid started talking about Easter traditions at home. He did think Leonid was looking more nervous after that, but he told himself that he was getting too paranoid.

He was also too busy. He hardly saw much of the children outside of classes and meals these days; every free minute that was not spent on grading and class preparation went to working off the contact list, and going on Order missions.

The Order had almost given up searching for Yasmina Carter, their newly recruited member from the Ministry who had disappeared in November, when her body suddenly turned up in a forest outside of Birmingham one April night. The Muggle police had found her, and Arabella Figg, who was keeping track of their activities, had been alerted to the finding by the description: cause of death undetermined, no apparent injuries. Remus remembered that litany all too well.

Finally, after a fair amount of Obliviating and manipulating of police and medical records, Yasmina's body was restored to her husband. The funeral service was one of the worst Remus had ever been at. Michael Carter kept waving off their numerous commiserations and implied apologies, saying in a thick voice that Yasmina had done what she believed in, that he just wished she could have completed that particular mission or at least left some helpful clues. At which Dumbledore, who had so far been very quiet, lifted his head and said:

"Oh, but she did. Your wife was an extremely bright young woman, and a very talented witch."

"You mean she did leave something that helps you?" asked Carter, surreptitiously wiping his eyes.

"Yes." Dumbledore looked very grave. "Fortunately, the police did not confiscate this." He held up Yasmina's wand. "I was just examining it, and I have found something very interesting." He seemed reluctant to say what it was, but Carter wasn't easily deterred.

"Well? Or is it something I shouldn't see because I'm a Muggle?" His words, betraying a certain amount of frustration at that area in Yasmina's life he had never really been a part of, were nevertheless spoken in a gentle tone.

Dumbledore sighed. "It is something I would not recommend you to see because she was your wife. It seems that Yasmina recorded her last minutes by using an advanced spell we call Imagicus."

Minerva stepped forward, her face in a puzzled frown. "How did you find that out?"

"I'll be glad to explain the details to you later, Minerva," Dumbledore said pointedly.

"You mean there's…" Carter gulped, and sat down. "There's something like a video of the minutes before she… before she…"

"Yes."

Carter looked down at his hands, shaking slightly, then looked up and said in a quiet, but firm voice: "I want to see it."

Dumbledore sighed again. "I thought you would say so. Please consider it carefully, Mr Carter."

Carter smiled a weary smile. "What would you do in my place?"

The Headmaster looked at him for a while, then nodded. "Can we go to your house?"

It was getting dark when the Order members stepped out of the church and quietly followed Carter to his house. Arabella walked with him, and they could hear her suggesting quietly that he should look at this alone, that they would leave him with Dumbledore. But the widowed man, ever so rational in his grief, shook his head.

"You all need to see it anyway, right? This way Professor Dumbledore won't have to see it twice." And Dumbledore, who always appeared so powerful and so much in control, smiled gratefully.

Remus had never seen Imagicus in action before, but he had heard it was very much like a memory recorded in a Pensieve. Which meant, he realized as they all gathered around Dumbledore who was holding Yasmina's wand, that it would be all the more vivid. But he knew also that he would have acted the same way in Michael Carter's position.

"_Imagico_," said Dumbledore quietly, and the wand lit up. At once the walls around them shrank away, and they found themselves on a clearing, grouped around Yasmina. A girl lay next to her on the ground, unmoving, and Yasmina was pointing her wand at the wizard in front of her.

Remus' first thought was that it was good Sirius had not come along for the sake of secrecy.

"I'd put that down if I were you, Yasmina," said Peter Pettigrew.

"So it's true," Yasmina said in a low voice that shook with anger. "I'd heard about you, but I couldn't believe it. Peter Pettigrew, that tiny, hopeless Gryffindor…" Her teeth were set, and her eyes were blazing. Yasmina had been a year below them, in Ravenclaw.

"Yes, I was a bit of a pitiful figure back then, I suppose," said Peter lazily, his wand pointed at her own. "Just goes to show where the wrong kind of friends can get you."

Remus' hands clenched into fists.

"As if you knew that word, friends," Yasmina spat. _She's always been too provocative for her own good_, thought Remus desperately, almost as though he could still change something about what had happened. "Tell me, Pettigrew, would you have killed Harry Potter if you had had the chance, just like you killed this child?"

The Order members looked down at the girl lying to her feet. There definitely hadn't been another body found apart from Yasmina's…

"We'll never know, will we?" Peter sounded bored. "Come on, let's–"

"_Stupefy!_" roared Yasmina, but, with surprising agility, Peter ducked and aimed a curse at Yasmina at the same time. They fought for a short while until Yasmina finally brought him down, and yelled the incantation to Stun him again – but so did a woman's voice behind them, and a fierce red light went right through the bodies of Remus and the others and hit Yasmina square in the back. Remus could hear her husband gasp, and for one stupid moment, wanted to tell him that it was all right, that she wasn't hurt.

Yasmina fell to the floor at exactly the same moment that Peter did, his mouth still open in mid-sentence. The other woman sighed exasperatedly and stepped over Yasmina's still body, and as she walked past them they could see a tall, slender woman in her forties, with blond hair tied back into a tight knot, and deep red robes. None of the Order members had ever seen her, judging from their curious looks.

"Honestly, Pettigrew, I don't know how you've survived for so long," she said as she stood over him, surveying him disdainfully. She must be Russian, thought Remus, who had had some experience with accents now. "That girl should have been no match for you. What is it, Peter? So quiet? Oh." She smiled humourlessly. "_Enervate_."

"I had the situation under control," muttered Peter, getting up and brushing the dirt off his robes.

"Of course you did." She smiled again, turning and fixing her cold eyes on Yasmina. "Pretty little thing. What do we do with her now? Bring her to the Dark Lord, like the child?"

Remus grit his teeth. Dumbledore had been right; all the signs had lately been pointing towards the fact that Voldemort was going through a transformation to rejuvenate himself.

"No," said Peter. "She's too strong, I don't think we'll get anything out of her."

Remus could almost see Michael Carter's heart swelling with pride, and at the same time he saw the Russian woman fixing Peter with her condescending stare again, as if to say 'I'm not surprised you couldn't make her talk'. But she seemed unwilling to argue; or perhaps unwilling to spare a life.

"Right then," she said. "You get the honours, Pettigrew, I must be off. I've things to arrange."

"When are you taking them?" Peter asked, moving toward Yasmina, his expression only betraying a trace of anxiousness, or perhaps disgust, at his task.

"Monday night. We've arranged to meet outside. The Dark Lord will be supplying me with a Portkey."

"What if one of the teachers intervenes?" Peter asked in a would-be-indifferent tone, seemingly to put off killing Yasmina. Out of the corner of his eye, Remus saw that Michael Carter had crouched down beside his wife and was contemplating her still form; but Remus and the other Order members were staring fixedly at the woman who was lazily twirling her wand between her fingers, and Remus felt strangely queasy. Something wasn't right…

"I'm not as hopeless at duelling as you are. You're not worried about them, are you, Peter?" She smiled mockingly. "Worried about _him_?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Peter smiled, but Remus knew that it was a forced smile. "Incidentally, if you see him, tell him I said hello. Oh, and – goodbye, Yasmina."

They closed their eyes as Peter said the incantation and the clearing was bathed in green light. Michael Carter let out a soft moan. And then, the illusion was gone; they were once again standing in his living-room.

Arabella gripped his arm. "I'm sorry, Michael." He reflexively grabbed her hand, and she led him to the couch.

"We must go to Hogwarts, Dumbledore," said Minerva in an urgent undertone. "If they are planning an attack…"

And Remus suddenly realized that the woman had said Monday night – which was now. Why was his heart pounding so loudly? Surely he wasn't thinking…

"_Portus_," Dumbledore was saying, and Remus looked to see that he was holding a vase. "Come quick, everyone. Arabella, please stay here with Mr Carter. Minerva, Mundungus, Alastor – please make sure the gates are sealed and the students are all in bed."

He handed the Portkey to Minerva, who stared at him. "Aren't you coming with us?"

Dumbledore looked at Remus, and Remus nodded slowly. "No, we are going to my school," he replied, trying to ignore the slight tremor in his voice. Before he could form another coherent thought, Minerva and the others had disappeared, Dumbledore had turned a glass into a Portkey and they were standing in front of the Centre for Lycanthropic Children.

"Do you have an idea whom she could have meant?" Dumbledore asked as they strode into the house and up the stairs.

"Yes." Remus' heart was now hammering painfully in his throat. _Please let me be wrong…_ They had reached the entrance to the boys' dormitories, and Remus charged through it and pulled the door to his left open.

Leonid, in his bed at the window. Felix, in the bed next to him. And the two beds on the right –

Empty.

Without a word, they hurried outside, back downstairs, into the garden. It was a clear, mild night, and there was no sound apart from a nightingale singing in one of the trees.

"Please go back inside and make sure they are not anywhere in the house," said Dumbledore. "If they are outside, I will find them."

Remus nodded and turned back without hesitation. It felt strange following Dumbledore's orders inside his own school, but the other man emanated such authority that it felt only natural to do what he asked. Remus practically ran back upstairs, checking every dormitory, every room in the manor, but to no avail. On his way back down he was joined by Charlotte and Gómez.

"What's wrong?" asked Charlotte, sleepy but alert, her wand in her hand.

"It's Andrej and Nikolai," Remus said, and as they rejoined Dumbledore in the garden, and the older man merely shook his head, Remus felt as though his heart would turn to stone.

"They're gone."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Gone?" whispered Charlotte.

Gómez gripped her arm. "Where?"

"We believe your students have been taken by Death Eaters," said Dumbledore very quietly.

"To… to… You-Know-Who?" asked Charlotte, her voice breaking. She looked at Remus for confirmation, and he nodded slowly.

"Then what are we standing around for? We must find them!"

"We don't know where Voldemort is currently hiding," replied Dumbledore calmly.

"There must be some way!" she cried out in a desperate voice. "A Tracking Spell, or…"

"They used a Portkey," Remus said. Only now had the truth of it completely sunk in. Had Andrej and Nikolai been kidnapped by Death Eaters – or gone of their own free will?

"Were there any signs of a struggle?" Gómez asked suddenly, mirroring his thoughts. Charlotte gaped at him.

"Pablo, you can't think… they can't have… Remus…?" She turned to him, and there was a pleading expression in her eyes.

"Their beds were neatly made, they seem to have left the dormitory of their own free will." His head suddenly felt very heavy. It could not be true…

"I could not detect any sign of a struggle here, either," confirmed Dumbledore. "And remember, Remus, the woman was talking about an arrangement to meet outside."

"What woman?" Charlotte asked immediately. She still had her wand drawn, and looked ready to run off after them in pursuit.

"We witnessed an encounter of one of our Order members, who is now dead, with a Death Eater," Dumbledore explained. Remus was glad that the other man had taken the matter into his hands. He didn't feel as though he could speak. "The Death Eater was a woman who spoke of taking someone from a school, but due to certain circumstances…" Dumbledore glanced at Remus, "we were alerted to the possibility that she meant this school. And it seems we were right."

"Remus," Charlotte whispered, even as the truth seemed to sink in. She looked utterly lost. "It can't be true…"

"I think she was Andrej's and Nikolai's aunt," Remus said heavily.

They stood in silence.

"Imperius," said Gómez suddenly, and Charlotte's eyes lit up.

"Yes! That's it, they must have been under the influence of it since Christmas…"

"It is a possibility," Dumbledore allowed calmly. "However, we will still have to find them first."

Remus had never before felt so helpless. To think that he was standing here, in perfect safety, while two of his students were being dragged to –

"Dumbledore," he said suddenly, "do you think she might bring them to her house in Moscow first?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Charlotte again. "We must go there at once." She and Gómez hurried inside to get dressed, while Remus and Dumbledore looked uncomfortably at each other. The old wizard did not look very convinced, and secretly, Remus understood. But they had to do _something_.

"Do you believe it was Imperius?" Dumbledore asked quietly, and Remus clenched his teeth.

"I have to."

Dumbledore nodded, and moments later they were rejoined by Charlotte and Gómez, who had left Angela and Nora in charge of the children.

They went to Moscow using an illegal Portkey created by Dumbledore, just as the Death Eater must have done; Remus wondered whether the Ministry would raise trouble, but Dumbledore probably knew how to avoid being seen.

Remus didn't dare to hope as they stood on the Red Square, watching Dumbledore perform a Tracking Spell. He knew the other two, like him, were forcing themselves not to marvel at the ease with which Dumbledore spoke such an advanced spell; now was not the time for admiration of a superior scholar.

"There is a faint trace," Dumbledore finally said in a very low voice, opening his eyes. "They must have left already."

"Faint trace better than no trace," grumbled Gómez, and they followed as Dumbledore led the way. The problem with Tracking Spells was that you couldn't Apparate, and so it took them another half hour to arrive at the block of flats where the boys' aunt – or whoever she was – lived. Dumbledore, who had been walking faster and faster the closer they got, hurried up the steps to a certain door, which Charlotte kicked open unceremoniously. No Alohomora, Remus knew, would have expressed the aggression and anguish she felt better.

The flat was empty, of course. He hadn't been entertaining much hope.

"Search for clues – anything," said Gómez in a hoarse voice Remus had never heard from him before. They turned the flat upside down, but there was nothing. Of course there was nothing; the woman Remus had seen in Yasmina's Imagicus Spell was not one to leave clues.

"There must be a way to find them somewhere, there MUST be!" exclaimed Charlotte, and there was genuine fear behind her aggressive tone.

Remus looked at Dumbledore. "What about Snape?"

Dumbledore nodded. "We should go to Hogwarts."

"Snape? What about him?" asked Charlotte, confused.

"No time," said Dumbledore as they hurried outside again, towards the Russian Ministry. Soon they were passing through the Hogwarts gates and hurrying up the path towards the castle. Minerva met them at the entrance and communicated with one look that nothing had happened here; not that Remus had expected it. Dumbledore asked her to fetch Snape from the staff room, and they went up to the Headmaster's office in silence. Remus could see that Charlotte was controlling herself with a supreme effort; he knew she found it unbearable to be here when they should actually be off in pursuit – but where to?

"What happened?" Snape asked by way of a greeting as he came through the door. He cast Charlotte and Gómez a furtive look, narrowed his eyes at Remus, and finally fixed his gaze on Dumbledore.

"Two students from the Centre for Lycanthropic Children have been taken to Voldemort," said Dumbledore.

For a moment, Snape looked too stunned to speak. "Two werewolf children?" He glanced at Remus, who nodded.

"They were taken by a Death Eater we have never seen before," Dumbledore continued while Gómez was still looking at Snape with a frown on his face, and Charlotte looked as though she was beginning to understand. "A Russian woman in her forties."

"I don't know her," said Snape, obviously uncomfortable about being exposed in front of two people he didn't know, but seeming to realize the urgency of the matter. "But there are a number of Death Eaters all over Europe that most of us have never seen." He turned to Remus. "Why would she take two of your students?"

"We don't know yet." Remus gritted his teeth even as he could see that Snape was coming to the same conclusion as him. _Of course, _he_ won't be at all surprised…_

"Well, I can't go there now without looking suspicious," said Snape. "I will have to wait until he calls me." He rubbed his left forearm in a reflexive motion that he probably wasn't even aware of. "What do you want me to find out?"

"Find out whether they are under Imperius or not, if you can," said Dumbledore. "Whether they went of their own free will, and whether there is a chance to get them back."

Charlotte slowly sank into a chair, her face white.

Snape nodded and left the room without another word. Gómez turned to Remus. "You trust that man?"

Remus looked at the door that had just closed behind his onetime bête noire, and nodded.

Four days passed until Snape was called to Voldemort. They were the worst four days Remus had gone through since he had found out about Lily and James. The uncertainty almost killed him, and he knew that the others felt the same.

He admired Charlotte, who had somehow managed to break the news to everyone at breakfast the following day. She was very pale, and he knew she hadn't slept; but her pallor was nothing next to Leonid's, who slumped back in his chair and looked as though he might faint.

He didn't know, later, how they had got through these days. They followed their schedule as usual, but neither students nor teachers were really listening to anything that was being said in class, their ears always trying to pick up the faintest sound that would indicate a messenger of any kind. Leonid was bundle of nerves by Friday night; he had evaded everyone during the week, and when questioned, said he didn't know anything. Remus didn't believe that anymore, but he was too tired of asking – and too scared of finding out the truth he was already anticipating.

It was a very silent assembly that greeted Dumbledore on Friday night. Nobody had gone to sleep yet; they were all sitting together in the Common Room. María had fled to the piano that stood in her dormitory, but had left the door open, and a simple, melancholy melody was floating into the room, reflecting their collective mood.

Jorge got up to get María as Dumbledore sat down, looking very grave. When María came through the door, she took one look at him and asked, in a quiet voice:

"They're not coming back, are they?"

Dumbledore slowly shook his head, resting his gaze on Remus. "Our informant is quite sure they are not under Imperius."

There was a collective gasp. María grabbed Jorge's hand, who steadied her; Nora laid her head on Olivier's shoulder, looking close to tears. Felix, meanwhile, looked at Leonid in concern. All of the colour had gone from the boy's face, and Remus knew that it was only at this moment that he really understood that his friends were gone.

"I don't believe it…" whispered Charlotte. But Remus saw that she, too, had already known.

"I'm afraid there is nothing we can do," said Dumbledore quietly and stood up. He looked extremely uncomfortable. "I urge you all to go to sleep." And without another word, he left the room. After a few moments' silence, Charlotte followed.

"I'm so sorry…" whispered Leonid, his face ashen. Nora got up at once and sat down next to him on the couch.

"It's not your fault, Leonid."

"Yes, it is." His voice was now barely audible. "They _told_ me about the things their aunt had said… I just… I never believed they'd go with her, or that she belonged to… to…" He burst into tears, and Nora put her arms around him.

"You couldn't have known," she said in a soothing voice. "None of us would have wanted to believe it…"

Remus sank back in his chair. How right she was.

* * *

"Charlotte, open the door." 

Silence. Everyone had gone to sleep; but Remus knew that Charlotte hadn't gone to bed, that she probably wouldn't sleep all night.

Finally - the small 'click' indicating that the door had been magically unlocked from inside. He touched the door handle and felt the familiar pull caused by the Mutatio Habitationis Charm Charlotte had cast on her room –

– and next thing he knew, he was in the middle of a thunderstorm. Heavy rain splashed into his face, and the wind blew into his robes. Raising his arms protectively over his head, he squinted, looking around for Charlotte.

She was sitting in the middle of a wide field, her legs crossed, her head down. It looked like she was soaked to the bone.

Remus raised his wand. The storm was so loud that he had to bellow the words: "_Finite Incantatem!_" Abruptly, the rain stopped, and the landscape slowly receded back into a normal room – for the first time, Remus saw what Charlotte's quarters really looked like.

He quickly took in the red curtains, the pictures on the wall and the old mahogany desk before his gaze rested on Charlotte, sitting on the floor between the bed and the desk. She still didn't look up. Remus crossed the room without a word and, taking a large towel from the bathroom, came back and wrapped her in it. Only then did she look up at him. Her lips were almost blue, and her teeth were chattering slightly. Reflexively, she wrapped the towel closer around herself. Remus sat down on the bed.

After a while, she got up and went to the bathroom to change. When she came back, Remus saw that her face hadn't only been wet with rain.

He stood up and came closer. Instinctively, she shied back; he stepped even closer and put his arms around her. She tensed; but then, finally relaxed into his embrace. For a while he held her like that, Charlotte sniffling occasionally. When they finally sat down on the bed, her face was dry.

"So," Remus said after yet another while, and his voice sounded strange to him after the silence. "You were thinking you would improve the situation by killing yourself?"

Charlotte turned around to look at him, her eyes wide, and Remus quickly checked himself. But she needed telling.

"I... I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "Sometimes I get so lost in my feelings... I should have been down there with everyone..."

"Charlotte." He laid a hand on her arm, and this time she didn't shy away. "Nobody's blaming you for wanting a bit of time to yourself to think. We all need that now." _Though if this is the way she thinks things through, I'd better not leave her alone again. _"But we need you to take care of yourself, Charlotte. The school needs you. The children need you."

Charlotte looked down. Suddenly, she pulled away, stood up and moved to the window in a few quick strides, turning her back on him.

"The school needs me, Remus?" Her voice was low and bitter. "Great Headmistress I've been. No idea about my students' feelings."

So she was blaming herself for everything. Well, at least that was a concept he was familiar with. Very briefly, the thought that he would now assume his friends' usual role amused him.

"Charlotte –"

"No, Remus. Don't tell me I couldn't have known. Don't tell me how much I've done for them. I had no idea what they were, I didn't want to know. All I wanted was a big happy school where everyone was alike." She sounded disgusted with herself.

"What they were?" He frowned. "Do you mean to say that was there all along?"

There was a moment's silence. "No. At least I hope not. I mean that I didn't care where they were really coming from, whether they were having problems integrating themselves. I didn't care for their feelings when I took them to England and forced them to learn this language."

Oh. So that was it... "You had your reasons. You wanted them to grow up in the world's largest wizarding community to increase their –"

"Yes, I bloody well had my reasons," snapped Charlotte. She was facing him now, and her eyes flashed in anger. Remus was taken aback for a moment – he'd seen her like this, but it had never been directed at him – until he remembered that she was actually angry at herself.

"But you know what, Remus? The end doesn't justify the means. I knew that, but forgot it temporarily, or didn't apply it to this situation, who knows? Who cares? The point is that I was wrong trying to mould everyone into my idea of a happy little student."

The energy behind her outburst left her as quickly as it had come, and she slumped down on the armchair opposite him. "How could I have been so blind? How could I not have seen the signs?" And she buried her face in her hands again.

Remus sighed. As much as he admired this woman, there was some truth in what she had said. "We all should have seen the signs, I suppose. But we just thought that the boys – " Somehow he couldn't bring himself to say their names. "We thought they needed a longer time than the others to adapt, that they just weren't as sociable as the others. We did what we could, Charlotte. We acted with the best intentions, we made mistakes, and now we have to learn from them."

Charlotte slowly shook her head. "The point is," she said from behind her hands, "that the whole concept is wrong."

"The concept is not wrong," Remus insisted. "It just needs some thinking through."

She grunted. "I hate moderates."

"I dislike extremes."

There was a muffled sound, which Remus hoped was a weak laugh, and she removed her hands. "Do you really not think that I've screwed everything up?" she asked, her voice as small as a child's.

"I think you've created a wonderful place for children who were mostly without hope. And certain adults too, I might add." He smiled. "Doesn't sound like screwing up to me."

"Do you think the others are in danger of the same?" she continued, and it sounded as though all her happiness depended on his answer.

"I think the danger is there," he replied truthfully. "Especially now that we know that Voldemort –" She flinched slightly, which he ignored – "knows about our school. But we'll be more alert in future."

She nodded slowly. Then, biting her lip, she said, even more quietly so that her voice was barely above a whisper, "I keep thinking of what they're doing now. I mean, I can't really picture it... not that I want to, really..."

"I know."

"If only I hadn't underestimated the danger. If I thought about it at all, I'd think, 'no, they couldn't possibly harm my students,' and I certainly never considered... students of mine following them of their own free will. I mean..." She shook her head again, almost in despair. "Damn it, Remus, they're just children."

He nodded. "Yes, the great 'if only'..." If only they had considered something like this when he had been young... if only he had learned from that experience and considered it this time. And he realized with a small pang that, in fact, he was much more to blame than Charlotte.

"In the end we're all just human," he said, almost to himself. And then added, with a small smile: "Or, you know. As close as it gets."

She groaned. "Shut up, Remus." But he knew that he had finally broken her depression.

* * *

_15th of June_

_Remus,_

_I hope you and your students are well._

_I am glad to inform you that Minister Fudge has finally agreed to a date for the hearing we requested. It has been set to Monday, the 24th. Please meet me in the Entrance Hall of the Ministry of Magic at ten to nine on Monday morning. Sirius will not be there, of course, and I have asked him to move to a location we are unfamiliar with – just in case we are questioned._

_All my best to Miss Merlot._

_Albus_

_

* * *

_

If Remus felt a slight, illogical apprehension about leaving the school on that Monday morning, it was nothing compared to the anxious looks he received when he got up from the dinner table. They had always been a close-knit group, but the disappearance of Andrej and Nikolai had made them even more of a … family, he supposed.

"I'll be back for lunch," he said, hoping it was true. You never knew with the bureaucrats at the Ministry; he had already asked Pablo to fill in for him if he actually managed to miss his class at one.

He arrived at the Ministry exactly ten minutes to nine. Dumbledore was waiting for him in the hall.

"How are you? And your colleagues and students?" the old man asked, surveying Remus over his half-moon spectacles. Remus looked away. He couldn't bear Dumbledore's scrutiny sometimes.

"We're fine. As fine as we can be, I guess."

Dumbledore nodded, and thankfully asked nothing more.

There were a large number of people waiting in front of the dungeon room when they arrived. Remus had thought Fudge wanted to keep it to a small circle, and Dumbledore's raised eyebrows seemed to confirm this; but it looked as though word had leaked out somehow. Remus recognized several people he knew from school, who either waved at him or eyed him anxiously.

"Break it up, break it up," called a booming voice, and a large wizard in violet robes who looked like Fudge's personal security guard tried to make his way to the door. The Minister followed right behind him, trying to look imposing, but looking rather small next to this man.

"Minister, is it true that Professor Dumbledore has new information regarding the rumours of You-Know-Who's return?" asked a gaunt, pale-faced man holding a Quick-Quotes Quill, and Remus suddenly recognized the woman next to him as Begonia Biggens, the _Daily Prophet_ reporter who had written an article about the Centre back in October. She too was eyeing him curiously while her own Quick-Quotes Quill was jotting down notes, and Remus looked away quickly.

"This is a secret meeting," called Fudge over the noise of the crowd, standing on tiptoe to see the reporter. Remus had to suppress a smile; Fudge was looking as ridiculous as usual, not to mention his nonsensical statement when it was obvious that the meeting was not quite as secret as he'd hoped. "I cannot allow anyone but members of the Wizengamot and those giving evidence inside. Please leave."

"Minister, we have a right to see this information! We have a right to know if You-Know-Who has returned!" trilled the voice of a woman Remus couldn't see.

"And you will be informed if that is the case!" replied Fudge, now sounding rather agitated. "Please make way for the members of the Wizengamot! I will make a statement once the hearing is over, if you wish you can stay here and wait."

The crowd gave something like a collective grumble, but they moved aside obediently. As Remus moved past them, he caught the eyes of Mary Callaghan, a Ravenclaw he had dated in fourth year, and he smiled. She gave him a small smile in return, then looked away quickly. _Standing with the Aurors, I see. No surprises there…_

It took nearly five minutes for all of the Wizengamot to file into the dungeon and settle down. Fudge's bulky security guard locked the door and put an Impenetrable Charm on it, as well as a Silencing Charm on the walls, before they started.

"So, Dumbledore, let's see this 'evidence' which you mentioned," said Fudge, skipping all further formalities. He looked quite dishevelled and tired. _Well, it's a tough job constantly inventing stories that explain the odd disappearances and occurrences, _Remus thought dryly.

"Very well," said Dumbledore and took out Yasmina's wand. "I must ask you all to come to the centre of the room, and I will attempt to extend the charm to all present."

"What is this? What charm?" asked Fudge, looking wary, as the thirty-odd wizards and witches left their seats and came forward. Remus knew this was not the whole Wizengamot, but he was surprised that so many were here at all; he would have thought that Fudge wouldn't give so much importance to what Dumbledore had to say. But then, he supposed, the Minister's fear of the other wizard greatly outweighed his disrespect.

"This is Yasmina Carter's wand," replied Dumbledore. "I… confiscated it after her body was found by the Muggle police."

"What? Dumbledore, you had no right to do so!" Fudge's face was taking on a purplish colour, as usual. Dumbledore looked just as unimpressed as Remus was; Fudge was very predictable.

"I had to, Cornelius. This evidence might not have been found otherwise."

Remus didn't bother to suppress a smile this time, as he was sure everyone was staring transfixed at Dumbledore. He saw several people looking at each other, raising their eyebrows at Dumbledore's implied assessment of Fudge's abilities.

"And what of Yasmina Carter – you never told us she had been found," continued Fudge in a stubborn voice, apparently choosing to ignore the insult.

"You would have been alerted to the finding had you been following the activities of Muggle police, as I recommended you do, Cornelius," said Dumbledore calmly.

Fudge spluttered for a bit, then seemed to reach the conclusion that he'd much rather see what Yasmina's wand held. "What is it, then?"

"Imagicus," Dumbledore replied. "Just before Yasmina was killed by Death Eaters, she recorded her last minutes with the Imagicus spell."

"Killed by Death Eaters? Preposterous!" cried Fudge, and Remus sighed. "Another cock-and-bull story with the aim of unsettling the wizarding population, uprooting all we have –"

"Cornelius," Dumbledore cut in, quietly but firmly. "I would not have come here if I didn't think that this evidence were enough for you. I realize that much is needed to convince you of the truth, but as you very well know, Imagicus cannot be imitated."

Fudge looked too stunned to speak, while a rotund man standing next to him nodded slowly. "He's right, Minister… it cannot be imitated. We would see if it were a fake."

Fudge gulped, then walked forward and stretched out his hand. "Let me see that, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore handed over the wand without another word, and for a moment Remus had to suppress an irrational fear that Fudge would snap the wand in half. But he was merely looking it over, pretending to be an expert at examining wands, and finally held it up high. "_Imagico!_"

Remus had thought the hardest part would be seeing Peter again; but he found himself staring at the other Death Eater instead, taking in her every movement and word, not comprehending how that kind of person could have appealed to Andrej and Nikolai, how this cold-hearted woman could have taken his students away. How they could have failed to notice…

The scene faded away, and he snapped back into reality. There was complete silence in the dungeon for a few minutes. Then there was a clatter when Fudge dropped Yasmina's wand.

"It can't be true…" whispered a woman somewhere behind Remus, and he was starkly reminded of Charlotte two months earlier. _Has it been two months already?_

"Peter Pettigrew," said the man next to Fudge, his voice no more than a croak. "Fudge, you realize what that means…"

Fudge, who had been staring at the wand at his feet, looked up. "This is too unbelievable to be true. We will find out how you tampered with that wand, Dumbledore…" He trailed off, and Remus thought he could actually hear Dumbledore groan very quietly.

"You can examine it all you like, Cornelius," he said, and Remus admired him once more for the calmness with which he regularly bore Fudge's stupidity. "I assure you you will find nothing, because nothing has been tampered with. Lord Voldemort –" there was a collective gasp, but Dumbledore continued relentlessly, "Lord Voldemort has returned, and Peter Pettigrew is a Death Eater and very much alive."

"But – but he was killed by Sirius Black!" said somebody to Remus' left, and he knew it was time for him to speak.

"He faked his own death," he said, his own voice sounding heavy to himself. "Peter Pettigrew was Secret Keeper for Lily and James Potter, and he betrayed them to Voldemort. When Sirius Black tracked him down, it was… Pettigrew… who blasted the street apart and killed the Muggles, because he knew that Sirius would be blamed."

There was another, very long silence.

"How can you prove it?" asked Fudge, finally.

"I can't. I saw Pettigrew with my own eyes two years ago, but he escaped. All you have is my word, and this piece of evidence." He pointed at the wand still lying at Fudge's feet. Of course this wouldn't be enough – he had been foolish to hope. But it was a start.

_At least they're not asking what that woman meant about taking somebody,_ he thought. He didn't think he would bear to talk about that in front of these people.

"And Black?" asked a grey-haired woman to Dumbledore's left.

"Sirius Black is currently in hiding," said Dumbledore. "Where, we do not know, but he keeps in contact with us."

Another gasp from the assembly. Fudge was staring at him wide-eyed.

"All this time you've been in contact with _Sirius Black,"_ he whispered. "I had my suspicions about that, but really, Dumbledore, you've gone too far this time…"

"I am convinced of his innocence, Cornelius. I did not inform you because I knew I needed evidence before you would believe me. You have it now; whether you choose to believe an obviously accurate piece of evidence is entirely your choice." He smiled benevolently, a smile that Remus knew would have driven him mad in Fudge's place. "If we are not needed here anymore, I would like to go back to my school."

_And I to mine_, thought Remus.

"What am I supposed to tell those people outside?" asked Fudge. It sounded as though he was asking himself.

"That is also entirely your choice," was Dumbledore's unnerving reply. They made their way through the small crowd of people inside, who were all still staring at them, and through the large crowd of people outside, who shoved and pushed and bombarded them with questions. Miraculously, they reached the upper floor without having spoken one more word.

"Tell me, Albus," said Remus as they stepped from the lift into the Great Hall. "Is it really impossible for you to fake Imagicus?"

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I have never tried to find out," he replied, and left it at that. They said goodbye, and Dumbledore stepped into a fireplace and was gone in an instant. Remus was about to leave through the Visitors' Entrance when a woman's voice called his name.

He turned around to see Miss Taylor, secretary at the Werewolf Registry, hurrying towards him. She looked slightly breathless, and he couldn't quite decide whether it was from running or addressing him.

"Miss Taylor," he greeted her amiably. "How are you doing?"

"Fine, I'm fine," she said. "I hope you're well, and everyone at the school?"

"We're fine, thanks."

They stood around awkwardly for several moments – she was definitely blushing, he thought – until she spoke again.

"I was going to write to you and Miss Merlot, but I hadn't got round to it yet." She blushed again at his questioning glance, and he wondered whether all male werewolves had such an effect on her. "Mr Foddersworth has retired, and there's a new head of office," she said.

His eyes must have lit up, because she smiled. "I didn't think he would still retire while I lived," he said. "Who's the new head of office?"

"It's one Mrs Harcourt, who was at the Department of Magical Catastrophes before." Miss Taylor lowered her voice, adopting a confidential tone. "She told me she didn't get on with her boss, so she asked to be transferred. She was a bit shocked at first to find herself at the Werewolf Registry, apparently, but she seems to be settling in well, and my impression of her is quite good."

Remus had to smile at Miss Taylor telling him all these details; it was almost as though they were old friends. "Well, that is certainly good to hear."

"Yes, isn't it? Mrs Harcourt has already asked to meet you and Miss Merlot, she thinks the Centre for Lycanthropic Children is a really good idea." Miss Taylor seemed to be more and more concentrating on his eyes that on their conversation, and he knew he had to get out of there.

"Well, please tell her that we'll be in touch," he replied, moving towards the entrance ever so slightly. "We can make an appointment to meet here sometime next week, perhaps." He hated coming here, but it was better than risking another negative experience for the children.

"I'll do that," said Miss Taylor, and before she could say anything else that seemed to be on her mind, Remus quickly said goodbye and left the Ministry. _Very taken with werewolves indeed…_

He got back to the school just after the end of morning classes, and found Sirius waiting for him at the front door.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he clapped his friend on the shoulder. "You were supposed to be at a hiding place we didn't know."

"I beg to differ. I was supposed to be somewhere you wouldn't expect me to be." Sirius grinned. "How did it go?"

"Oh well, you know Fudge. I think we convinced lots of people from the Wizengamot, though." Remus looked around. "Listen, you shouldn't be here. I've only told Charlotte about you so far…"

"Oh, don't worry, they're all in the garden playing Quidditch. Charlotte was gardening when I last checked…"

Remus smiled, shaking his head. "You really do things properly, don't you?"

"One becomes used to being a shifty person," Sirius commented nonchalantly, and Remus laughed. "Introduce me to Charlotte, will you?"

They walked around the house, Sirius staying behind Remus until they were sure that everyone was involved in the Quidditch match except Charlotte, who was just planting seeds into an empty flowerbed.

"Ah, there you are!" She looked up; her face flushed from bending down and her hands dirty, and gave Remus the most cheerful smile he had seen from her in two months. Then she saw Sirius and gaped slightly, but then smiled at him. "Finally brought your infamous friend, I see."

Sirius looked slightly awkward as he stepped forward and shook Charlotte's outstretched hand, which she had wiped clean on her apron. "Charlotte," he said. "I've heard only good things about you."

"Well, I can't say the same of you, I'm afraid," she said, and he laughed. "You look very different from those photos the _Prophet_ still publishes."

"Thanks, I guess." He grinned. Then, after a few moments of silence, he said: "I'm very sorry about what happened, Charlotte."

She gave a small smile, which was both sad and grateful. "Well, at least there's one good thing that came of it. How did the hearing go?" she addressed Remus, who had been watching their exchange silently. He knew how Sirius felt – he was glad about the evidence that proved Sirius' innocence, but he wished they had come across it in another way.

"Quite well, I suppose. Fudge is an ineffective idiot, but even he can't deny what he saw."

Sirius and Charlotte nodded, and Remus had to smile at the identical grim expressions on their faces.

"Well, I'd better be off," Sirius said, finally. "I'll see you on Sunday, perhaps."

"You don't have to leave," said Charlotte. "I'm sure the others would be happy to meet you." She grinned. "Or see Snuffles again."

Sirius raised his eyebrows and looked at Remus, who was just as astonished as his friend. Charlotte laughed. "Oh, come on, you didn't think I wouldn't put two and two together after you told me about the Animagus transformations?"

"You told her about the –" Sirius frowned, then shrugged, and Transformed without another word. They could hear a shout of "It's Snuffles!" as he ran towards the Quidditch field, and they smiled.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," said Charlotte.

"It's all right, he knows that he can trust you." He looked down at the flowerbed. "What are you planting?"

"Lupins." She grinned and tossed him a packet of seeds, and he laughed and crouched down.

"Since when do we have so many brooms?" he asked, pointing to the lively match at the other end of the garden, where at least twelve people were in the air.

"Take a closer look at who's sitting with Teri over there." Charlotte's voice was full of suppressed excitement, and he followed her pointer to see a woman sitting next to the Charms teacher. He could only see the back of her, but the mass of blond hair piled up on top of her head looked familiar.

"Is that Hildegard Pallas?"

"Yep. She came by this morning after you left. Brought a couple of brooms she still had 'lying around', apparently, lots of books and Potions ingredients she 'never used', and a more or less definite promise of permanent support. I think she fell in love with the kids when she saw them."

"I can't blame her." He smiled. "That's great news."

She looked up again from the flowerbed to fix him with an earnest look. "How are you doing, Remus? Honestly." He gave a questioning frown, and she shrugged. "I just feel that I've been a bit absorbed in my own grief, and never took the time to ask how you were. And you never say anything by yourself until I've poked you about twenty times."

He smiled. "I'm English, Mademoiselle."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"No, it doesn't." He chuckled when she rolled her eyes, then sighed. "I'm doing all right. Still… uncomprehending, I guess, but the initial shock has numbed a bit."

She nodded. "We need to take care not to become too numb."

"I don't think there's a danger of that, with Olivier and Nora around." Their 'Alpha couple' had started a discussion about what had happened, two weeks after the boys' disappearance, an initiative Remus had been very thankful for. "But we should make sure to always encourage discussions about it."

She took another long look at him, then smiled. "Have I told you yet how lucky we are to have you here?"

"You have, and if you do so one more time, my English heart will implode from all the emotion assaulting it."

When she laughed out loud, he suddenly realized how much he had missed that sound.

"Seriously," he said as they got up and walked towards the Quidditch field, "I don't think you realize who's the lucky one here."

THE END


End file.
